


A Beautiful Disaster

by chemily



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Carmilla Big Bang 2015, F/F, GTA!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 14:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5251415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemily/pseuds/chemily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmilla Karnstein is a hot shot crime lord in the murder capital of the world, Los Santos. When it comes to heists, weapons and fast cars, she knows her shit. She wishes she could say the same about dealing with petulant children who bother her when she is working. After catching the most obnoxious criminal she's ever dealt with, pseudonym the Eagle, she thinks that the rest of her evening will be smooth sailing. How wrong she was.</p>
<p>Rated T for language and mentions of violence/abuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So this has been a really cool project to work on and I want to thank everyone who helped get it to come together. As it is a part of the Carmilla Big Bang, there is a piece of art to accompany this, but I want to warn you it contains a spoiler. But go check out my artist on tumblr at awoodlandfox.tumblr.com! She made something awesome and I will link you to it in the chapter that the art directly references.
> 
> But without further ado, here is my piece! Let me know what you think :)

_11:37 PM_

She was fucked. She knew it, the girl across the table knew it, hell, even the dumbass henchman who brought the girl in probably knew it. It was floating in the air, intoxicatingly so, but considering she was the one with access to a gun, Carmilla found it a tad easier to give off a faux confidence instead of shitting her pants as she looked at her captured.

It also helped that the girl in question was securely handcuffed to the metal chair she sat upon.

The girl was dressed, mockingly in its own right, in all black, save the splash of color dripping out of her balaclava. Her hair was a very light brown with highlights that made it almost confusing to describe, not that Carmilla would bother with that. She had more important things to worry about, namely pumping this chick dry for information and then, well, killing her.

Or so she had hoped.

Because she wasn't allowed to at the current moment, directly rendering her to be so fucked. A text from her mother ( _Do NOT do anything! I will call you in an hour)_ put all of her fun evening plans on hold.

For the time being.

But for this hour, Carmilla hung in suspense of that phone call, and by association, discovering the way in which she had majorly screwed up. For if this was truly the girl she needed to catch and she had accomplished such feat without the cops catching on, there would be no reason for her to pull back on the reins of the operation.

Yet here she was. Waiting on a phone call and feeling entirely uncertain of the shitstorm awaiting her.

It was a shame her mother gave her such instructions because she was looking forward to the kill. Hell, she was looking forward to it more than any kill she'd had recently. Carmilla, despite her reputation, wasn't much for murder. Personally, at least. Sure, her job had its fair share of homicide and crime surrounding it, so much so that a criminal justice textbook could define almost all crimes, misdemeanor to felony, based solely on things the gang had done. But then again, this was Los Santos. And that was the gang. She let them do the dirty work while she relaxed in her penthouse just outside the city center or in her unnecessarily large office atop the Maze Bank. From there, the crime looked small.

Like most things, she didn't let it bother her. She even tried, mostly successfully, to not let the text bother her.

What did bother her was the huffing and puffing and frustrated noises emitted from the far side of the room where little Miss Big Mouth was seated. Surprise, surprise, she didn't like being kidnapped and strapped down in a warehouse on the southeast side of the city. Carmilla rolled her eyes, This girl's insolence was to be expected. That's why she had a fucking bandana tied into her mouth.

Yet she was still making noise.

Carmilla wanted so badly to pop a cap in her ass that she had to turn around, count to ten and refocus before addressing the girl.

“Alright, _Eagle_ ,” she said, with as much disdain as she could muster. “Let's try this again.” She walked smoothly over to the chair her companion was sitting on. “What do you have to say for yourself?” She roughly jerked the bandana down so it hung loosely around the girl’s neck, freeing her mouth once again.

Carmilla should have known better.

She spit. Right on Carmilla's black motorcycle helmet.

She couldn’t tell if that was an improvement from the hellish screeching the girl was producing before the bandana was added to her wardrobe.

Regardless, Carmilla took another deep breath to try to assuage the urge to pull the knot on the bandana irrevocably tightly around the girl’s neck and watch her fucking face turn blue. Instead she grabbed a napkin off the table and wiped her visor off. The girl’s eyes trailed her as she walked from in front of her to the table then to the trash bin. Her head barely shifted but Carmilla could see her light brown eyes move in tandem with Carmilla’s body.

“I’m not telling you anything,” the girl spoke up strongly, when Carmilla’s back was facing her.

Her lack of fear, and by extension, respect was not only annoying as fuck but also ignorant as all hell. She should be afraid of Carmilla. Hell, she should be fucking terrified of her. For all intents and purposes, she was the worst person you could encounter in Los Santos.

Ask anyone.

On the streets, she was known as the Panther. She coined that name herself and was damn proud of it, living up to its prowess by being agile, quick and smart. She dressed in all black and all of her business vehicles were black, including her favorite mode of transportation, her Lectro. Black was her thing, which made the girl’s attire entirely frustrating from the get-go. Especially since she had a reputation for it, as well as for her crime. After gaining power, few had tried to cross her, one of the exceptions being Eagle, and those who did died.

It was just the cost of business.

Regardless, that wasn’t what she was dealing with today. Maybe life would be easier right now if it was.

She pulled a revolver out from the drawer before her. It was hardly her weapon of choice but she liked the way it sounded when she spun the barrel. She liked even more the sound of a deep, panicked swallow from the girl when the barrel spun.

“Well, buttercup, here’s the deal,” she drawled, turning on the heel of her combat boot to properly face the addressee. “Either you talk and I kill you in the most humane way possible.” She looked down at her revolver and playfully spun the barrel once more, a smirk toying on her lips, though it was masked. “Or you don’t, and I torture the fuck out of you until you talk, and if by the grace of god you die in the process, I’ll use your phone to get the information I need."

Carmilla shrugged dismissively, and turned to face a cabinet behind her. Even though she couldn’t see it, she bet that the girl’s brow was furrowed. The handcuffed girl couldn’t tell what was in the closet, obviously, but Carmilla could tell she was still weighing her options, perhaps trying to figure out what the metal doors contained. Trying also to find if it was something so bad that it wouldn’t be worth the honor of dying without succumbing to the temptation of quitting. “Either way,” she continued, getting the girl’s eyes to flash back to where she stood. “I get the information and you die. Save me the fucking trouble, kid."

“I don't think so.”

_God fucking dammit._


	2. Chapter 2

_11:43 PM_

Carmilla cursed every decision, every choice, every solitary moment that led her to this one, because this one sucked the most, probably, in her whole life. Which was a shame, because she usually enjoyed being a nationally recognized and feared crime lord. No sarcasm intended.

Of all the things she could have inherited from her mother, Carmilla was rather proud that she had the pleasure of taking on the family business. Under most circumstances, this would not be the case. A rebel from birth, Carmilla wasn’t typically one to follow in mommy’s footsteps.

However, when the pieces fell together and she turned 18, Carmilla was more than happy to fit the role. A week after her birthday, she began running it on her own, under the watchful eye of the one and only Lilita Morgan, street name the Dean (Carmilla recalled something or other about her being able to “school” her opponents. When she took over in the 80s, things were much more different, read: shittier, and jokes like that would fly). The Dean was the chief boss in a nationwide gang, and had been heading up the branch in Los Santos, San Andreas, a town known for plastic surgery, sex, drugs and crime.

Six months later, Carmilla could call herself the new boss as Morgan left her to it, busying herself with other headquarters across the US.

She was more than pleased to be left to it.

Until, of course, it meant that Carmilla was left to put up with this piece of shit person who had relentlessly spent the last few months trying to take her down. How awful for Carmilla to spend her fifth summer in charge dealing with petty incidences.

How much worse for the girl who had no idea what she was meddling in.

The girl alone was hardly a threat to Carmilla, or the gang at large, but she seemed to have somehow rallied support from the other major gangs in the city, the Summers and the Zetas.

Didn’t anyone respect healthy, multi-gang competition anymore?

Carmilla didn’t like cooperative play in her line of work and these alliances, though small in comparison to Silas, were beginning to cut into Carmilla’s territory, and make a mess of it in the process.

Silas is the gang that Carmilla was working with. It was a name passed down for centuries and apparently was some acronym for things the gang promoted (Strength, Independence, Loyalty, Authority and Smarts). It was also, though less known, the name of a founding father of sorts. Regardless, it had heavy influence in most major cities across the country, with its headquarters somewhere on the East Coast.

Carmilla never bothered much with details.

The Summers, the second most prominent group in Los Santos, particularly rubbed Carmilla the wrong fucking way. They were all girl, all tall and all flash. They had no respect for the hustle and believed that, with a few well timed bombs, they could own the streets.

She wished she could tell them how wrong they are.

They spent their first years trying to take down the Zetas, which was ultimately futile. The Zetas had traditionally been a male run group, complete with the assholery and misogyny that hadn’t changed since they were founded in the 1920s. In the early 21st century, Morgan, sick of their lame excuse for competition, used her youngest child and only son to infiltrate the group. He was a dumbass and a dick, but he was damn good at his job. He quickly rose to power then relocated their headquarters to Liberty City. From there, he began to successfully run the northern branch of the Silas gang, under the Zeta name.

The Summers got an ego boost from believing they were the ones to run them out of town.

Carmilla finds that to be the funniest, if not most irritatingly stupid, story ever told.

A few dissociated Zeta stragglers stuck around Los Santos, but they had the authenticity and strength of a fraternity. Sure, they messed with some underground drug transactions and a slightly illegal moonshine business venture, but that was never done on the Silas turf. They kept their tomfoolery to themselves and they never messed with Carmilla’s business. She didn’t lose sleep over them.  

Until, of course, they started getting involved in this little revolution scheme to try to take her down. What a shame it was that some of their main “bros” had been busted this very evening for a drug deal at the docks, thus setting back their support for Eagle a bit.

If only taking down the Summers was that easy. But they never meddled in petty crime. In fact, the only crime that Carmilla had ever heard they committed was the attempted murder of an alleged rapist. Turns out they mistimed a bomb and the guy just ended up in the hospital for the weekend.

It also turns out that they targeted the wrong guy.

Following that abysmal crime escapade, they stuck to protecting the streets, helping girls get home safe from parties and stepping in when police were too late to the violence. Carmilla couldn’t imagine a more boring gang.

She couldn’t imagine them doing any good either.

Still, with the Eagle’s group running around without their head, and some of their close allies getting the shaft courtesy of a well timed phone call and Carmilla’s connections, she believed she bought herself some time. Key word: Some. Because if she knew anything about these anal-retentive children who unfortunately tumbled into her life, they kept track of each other and got easily worried if a member went missing. It was all too sentimental for Carmilla.

“So, Eagle...”

“Panther,” she regarded. Was the humor in a cat and bird fighting apparent for anyone other than Carmilla? She laughed at the image of a panther devouring an eagle.

“Right,” Carmilla muttered, offhandedly. The girl’s eyes were trained on her, once again. It was almost devout how intently she kept a hard glare on Carmilla, who was lounging on an office chair behind the central table. It was kind of fucking pathetic but devout nonetheless. “Let’s get right to it, who is Phoenix?”

The brunette froze immediately with the only movement being the widening of her eyes. Her mouth dropped open for a brief moment before she realized her mistake. She blinked once and went back to her previously unreadable expression, dropping a low “I don’t know” into the room. Carmilla hadn’t even known how visible the girl’s face truly was through the three holes of the tattered balaclava, but after seeing the sheer emotion plaguing her face, she realized how much she could see. It was her soft, chapstick painted lips that had dropped to form silent words while her sweet, hazel eyes widened in panic.

She was glad she got to see such a cowardly expression so clearly.

The girl then closed her mouth, her eyes still wide as she shrugged and shook her head. “I….I don’t know what you’re asking,” she muttered, shrugging again and clanging her cuffs against the chair. Carmilla knew she was trying to sound collected but it wasn’t working as she stuttered through her thoughts.

Carmilla then rose from her chair languidly, to walk around the table and be closer to the girl. She leaned back on her hands, which gripped the edge of the table when she looked back to the girl. “Phoenix doesn’t ring a bell?” she asked in a low tone, tilting her head up slightly.

“Not unless you mean the city in Arizona, but that’s not really a ‘who?’ so much as a ‘where?’ or ‘what?’ But then at the same time, I don’t even know anyone IN Phoenix so that wouldn’t be right either. Actually, ‘where’ wouldn’t make sense either; it’s not like Phoenix moves around, it’s a city. Or there’s the mythical creature, but that’s not...” she trailed off awkwardly.

Carmilla didn’t say a word and internally groaned at this young woman, who was somehow fucking ruining her life. She took a deep breath before she spoke again, praying the girl was done with her god-awful rant.

“No, cupcake, that’s not what I’m referring to,” she drawled. Eagle tried to leap in with another comment, stammering and sounding guiltier by the second, when Carmilla cut her off. “I’m talking about the person you email more than any other member of your crew. More than Hawk, Falcon or Dove. I thought she’d be a good place to start our discussion.”

Carmilla pushed off of the table and took a step closer, using her standing height to her advantage when she got closer to the girl, casting a shadow over her already dark torso.

“I don’t know what she did to get out of the bank tower unscathed and uncaptured. Maybe it was because my people were not looking for her but rather you. Maybe she really is _that good_ at combat and has the athletic ability to get her out of those situations. Either way...” she paused, drawing her lips into a straight line before remembering that Eagle couldn’t see her mouth anyway. “Do you really trust the odds of her against all of my people who are now looking for her?”

A flash of concern lit up the girl’s eyes. She was probably hoping that once “the Panther” caught her, her people would be off the hook. Carmilla wanted to make it clear that this wasn’t the case.

“Without her even knowing that they are?” Carmilla was banking on the girl’s lack of knowledge and foresight into the world of organized crime. There was no way in hell that Eagle prepped her people about what to do if she got caught, or even gave them a way of knowing that she wasn’t safe. And based on the reduced anger on the brunette’s face, Carmilla was right. It was a risk for Carmilla to threaten on theoretical grounds, but she knew she could get away with it. Call it cocky, call it dumb, but call it what it is, which was a damn good threat and a real fucking problem for Eagle.

Carmilla retreated back to the table, turning around as she spoke the next line. “When she is dying to save you from this hell right about now?” That one was a bit of a stretch. And it was derived from an overall creepy situation i.e. reading all of Eagle’s emails.

You see, Carmilla had the best of the best when it came to hired accomplices. J.P., a young man and jack of all trades, was her favorite and the only hacker she had. They met at the library, strangely enough, and when they got to talking, he confessed to being a computer scientist with a rough past. He had been kicked out of college after breaking into the university’s grading system and was currently taking odd jobs in the area. Carmilla’s first mission for him was an easy one, getting into the email of a potential bank client who seemed to be only in the deal for information. J.P. did the job well and Carmilla kept him around. He consistently excelled and moved his way up her company.

To Carmilla, he was almost like a brother. While at times he could be too excited and come on too strong, he was also very reserved at other times. He was highly introverted, and he spent so much time hacking and coding that he basically lived in a computer. He wasn’t as bad as Carmilla expected.

J.P. had pulled all of the plans for the Maze Bank Heist that Eagle executed, or attempted to execute. He passed onto Carmilla lists of files from her cloud storage, as well as every email she ever sent. Eagle was an interesting contradiction, putting her exact play-by-plays out on the internet but not mentioning the purpose in any.

But J.P. also managed to get all of Eagle’s transactions she made under a fake name and card. They outlined vehicle purchasing, a ludicrous amount of money spent at clothing stores and the occasional bakery run. Nothing so scandalous or traceable. For someone clumsy enough to get fucking caught on the first stairwell after breaking into a skyscraper, she was sure good at keeping her true life separate from her Crime Lord alter-ego. Which is why Carmilla still didn’t know her name.

Not that she wanted to know it.

This is where she found correspondence with a number of accomplices, Phoenix included. However, when it came to her and Phoenix, they talked to one another the most and the other girl seemed to frequently be worried about Eagle’s overall well-being, like some clingy sort of girlfriend. It was annoying.

Not that she cared.

“How do you know this stuff?” the girl asked, barely above a mumble. Carmilla actually had to turn around to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. The girl’s eyes looked sadder than before, her doe eyes nearly twinkling as they accompanied their words. “How do you know about Phoenix?”

“So there is a Phoenix.” Carmilla loved when she called bullshit and won.

“Okay fine, we can cut the crap. I know a Phoenix.” Her tone was angry again and Carmilla smirked. This girl got entirely too riled up too quickly. It was hilarious.

“As I said, I know you do.” She began pacing slightly in the small space between the two occupants.

“What’d you do? Tap my phones? Steal my passwords?”

Carmilla shrugged, absentmindedly, continuing to pace slightly. The girl was clearly getting angrier and it was only a matter of time before her rage got the better of her and she spat something out. Carmilla paused for a second, contemplating the proper answer. “Something like that.” She had all the fucking power in that moment, but it wouldn’t suffice. She had to keep pushing.

“But you still don’t know who we are.” She was smirking, the cocky brat. Even though she was right, it was still bullshit. Carmilla had so much information. She could shut down their current operation in a flash, sabotaging all the plans discussed through the emails. But that wouldn’t shut her team down entirely, especially with the current banishment from killing Eagle.

What she really needed was the girl’s personal phone. From there, she could track her number or get to a facebook page or something. All she needed was this girl’s information so J.P. could get rid of her, get her out of the system and prevent people from looking for her.

She could also properly threaten the Eagle’s teammates. Using their names was a surefire way to prove that she knew who they were and that she meant business.

Perhaps getting more info on the girl could get Mother off her back as well.

She was praying she predicted correctly when she guessed the girl would bring the phone with her. A professional would never bring something with so much information to a crime scene at the risk of getting caught or leaving it behind. But this girl wasn’t a professional and as if on cue, an iPhone text sound rang through the room and the girl slowly closed her eyes.

Fucking jackpot.

“Perhaps,” Carmilla retorted to the previous accusation. “But I’m willing to bet that phone in your right pocket will fill me in.”

She could see the girl draw her lips even tighter together. She knew that must be the face of pure regret. What a goddamn idiot.

“Why are you doing this?” the girl shouted, rage exuding from her face.

“Why did you try to steal from my bank? I saw your car; you are clearly not broke. Are you some kind of fucked up Robin Hood or some shit, trying to avenge those with less? Or did you just want to prove that you _could_ steal money?” Her voice was calm, but bitter. Angry but not out of control. It was just the way she liked it to sound.

“I wasn’t trying to steal money, okay?” she shouted back. Carmilla shook her head in disbelief because yeah fucking right she wasn’t in it for the money, like the pride would be enough.

“Then why the frilly hell did you break into my bank?” She got up in the brunette’s face, her visor barely inches from the girl’s bare nose.

“I wanted answers.”

“Excuse me?”

“About Silas,” she said with force, her eyebrows low, squinting her eyes in anger.


	3. Chapter 3

_12:13 AM_

Carmilla never prided herself on being all that good at school but that’s not to say that she wasn’t smart. She knew tons of things.

She knew that the stars overhead were nearly infinite and even though they were long dead, the light could still be seen on earth because of the time it takes for light to travel, which is approximately 299,792,458 meters per second. She knew that the best place to see stars wasn’t in the city but rather a trail up Mount Chiliad at the darkest point of the evening, which she knew changed throughout the year.

She knew that the closest Ammu-Nation to her apartment couldn’t definitively tell that she was the one tied to so much crime but she knew she had to keep it that way so she knew how to get to every other shop in the surrounding area.

She knew which store ran out of C4 the fastest, and which one brought in the newest weapons when.

She knew the theories and thoughts of her favorite philosopher, Camus, who she knew was a better lot of information than what school tried to teach her.

What she also knew was that if this god forsaken girl tried one more cheesy little fucking attack on her, her chair was going to mysteriously fall back onto the concrete floor of the warehouse and if her head cracked in the process, well, isn’t that just a damn shame?

Instead she took a deep breath and weighed the cost of blatant disregard of her mother’s exact wishes against the reward of getting some goddamn peace and quiet.

Of course the cost outweighed the reward.

She had pulled away from the ski masked girl when she said that she wanted answers. It was honestly some kind of bullshit to begin with. In all of her years working on this project, Carmilla had never once been found out, unless it was after a scene like this, killing a robber as Panther and leaving no trace of that relation after the fact. Aside from that, no one had ever connected the Maze Bank to Silas. No one had ever connected Panther to the Bank either.

Carmilla should have known this was about more than just robbing a bank.

How did she do it, though? Maze was a highly esteemed bank, one with a near monopoly in Los Santos. In fact, it even had the cleanest record of any bank the FDIC cataloged. Sure, it was simultaneously a front for the gang and it kept a hold of Silas’s “funds,” but that was all done legally. Mostly legally. Carmilla didn’t have to be a lawyer to know that she could get away with that aspect of all of this.

And what did it matter? Maze Bank held a lot of their funds, yes, and hid the earning Carmilla had through Silas, but it wasn’t itself an illegal entity. It was just a front for a gang with a way to avoid police suspicions. If Walter fucking White could get away with such an operation, why couldn’t she?

“Answers to what?” Carmilla asked finally.

“Like you don’t know,” Eagle scoffed. It was so bloody condescending, that Carmilla whipped around hard, leaning her face back towards the girl’s. She swallowed harder than Carmilla thought she would, and Carmilla bet she was afraid, as she damn well should be. But Eagle tried to play it cool and Carmilla just grinned beneath her helmet.

She didn’t speak again though, and Carmilla was growing impatient.

“Tell me what you think you know,” Carmilla demanded through gritted teeth. She slowly slinked her hand to her hip, wrapping her fingers around the handle of the revolver sticking out of her pocket. She couldn’t help but notice the girl’s eyes trace along her and follow her fingers to the gun. It was almost pathetic for the girl. Carmilla didn’t fucking care.

“Those people, those five people who go missing every year,” she managed to sputter out. She was nervous.

“Lots of people go missing every year. This is Los Santos, sweetheart,” Carmilla retorted, teasingly.

“Don’t act like you don’t know about this. Every year in late October, five people, usually five girls, go missing. The police won’t answer anything about it and their bodies never turn up. But every year, a few weeks before then, a big donation from Maze Bank gets dropped off at the police station. You can’t tell me you don’t know anything about that,” the girl persisted, without a breath.

“How did you even dig up such records?”

“I’ve been living here for four years. You begin to notice things.”

“Did it ever occur to you that we might actually just like the LSPD? That the donation gives us a nice tax write-off? That they keep the bad fucking criminals off the street and leave the crime to the pros?” The girl shook her head. “Of course not, because you don’t know shit about this organization or the organization of Los Santos. Things happen for a reason.”

The girl went to open her mouth again in protest and Carmilla moved over, gun in hand, to shush her. Her insolence and her very stubborn attitude were beyond infuriating.

“Maybe those people you are so worried about stuck their noses where they don’t belong,” Carmilla said with a drawl, fiddling with her gun gently. “Wouldn’t you hate to find out if that was the case?”

“But that didn’t answer my question and you just basically admitted to it!” The girl was yelling and kept trying to flail her arms for emphasis. Instead she made a continual banging noise against the metal chair and her wrists were picking up some residual redness that may turn to a bruise or two. “And now you’re here and you’re clearly tied to Silas so the bank has to be tied in too! So I was right.”

“Stop making this so fucking hard on me, Eagle.” She pulled the gun out and held it lightly in her hands, one still holding tightly to the grip with a finger gently hovering over the trigger. “Just stop talking and it will all be okay.”

“No, I--”

“Stop!” Carmilla said with a shout. She was fucking pissed at this point and was beyond caring if the girl noticed. She stepped towards the girl abruptly, her gun steady as she approached. The girl’s eyes widened but Carmilla just rolled hers. At least the girl was demonstrating the proper emotions for once. Carmilla grabbed at the girl’s right hip with her left hand. Suddenly, a feeling of force pressed through Carmilla’s abdomen, pushing her back and knocking the air from her lungs.

_That girl just fucking kicked me._

She took only a second to catch her breath, she didn’t learn self-defense for nothing, before stepping closer to the girl and trapping the offending legs to the chair with her own. The girl’s breath hitched again, clearly panicked by the ease with which Carmilla rendered all of her limbs useless. Carmilla reached again for her hips when the girl started squirming spastically.

“I know Krav Maga, you know. I could kick your butt!”

“What?” Carmilla paused for a second, keeping the girl’s legs trapped down, but retracting her hand. It was futile, anyway, to continue to grasp at flailing hips and thighs, especially when one of her hands was incapacitated by holding a gun.

The girl nodded fervently, as if her bobble-headed routine would strike fear into the heart of her captor. Carmilla cursed herself internally for somehow being stuck with the most obnoxious criminal who ever lived.

She placed her gun into her pocket then, which seemed to calm the girl down. It wasn’t a fucking victory for Eagle but she seemed to think it was. Carmilla then leaned forward, pressing her right forearm into the girl’s waist to hold her down. Quickly, she reached back to Eagle’s right hip and initiated her attack, grabbing the iPhone out of her pocket. The shock of the arm bar managed to throw Eagle off her game and Carmilla was able to retreat after that motion, phone in hand and stomach unkicked, though she did give credit to the kicking attempts the girl made as she pulled away.

“Alright, Karate Kid, let’s see what you got here.” She hit the home button and the phone lit up, a few notifications aligned across the top of the screen. It was locked but that didn’t worry her. She could have J.P. here in a minute and he would take care of it. This would be easy for him.

“That’s not right,” the girl spoke up from her spot across the room. Carmilla was getting real fucking sick of having to take a deep breath before responding.

She had to find a more consistent way of keeping “fear” as Eagle’s primary emotion.

“I think I know how a fucking cell phone works, alright? I wasn’t born in the 17th century.”

“No,” the girl muttered with a slight grin, shaking her head. What did she find so fucking funny right now? Carmilla moved her free hand to her gun-containing pocket. “You got it wrong. They’re not the same, like at all.” She was still kind of smiling and it looked so innocent. Cute, even. Carmilla furrowed her brow.

“What?”

“You called me ‘Karate Kid,’” Eagle impersonated, dropping her voice from its usually high register. Carmilla rolled her eyes at the mockery, which was doing her voice complete injustice. “Krav Maga and Karate are very different; I don’t know anything about Karate. But you said that after I said I did Krav Maga, which is what I’m assuming you’re referring to.” She paused for a second, seeming to wait for Carmilla to speak up. She didn’t. “So it’s funny, you know? And a terrible misnomer.” She shrugged, dismissively. Carmilla blinked a few times, confused to the whole situation. What was this girl on about now?

“Let me get this straight. I kidnap you, brace you to a chair, threaten you and steal your phone, but the part that you’re hung up on is the nickname I gave you?” Carmilla growled the last part out. This girl was something else beyond her worst nightmare when it came to enemies. And now she was not only insolent and patronizing, but also _this_ fucking dumb? “Goddamn, cupcake, you got some fucked up priorities.”

The girl shrugged again. Carmilla fantasized roping her down so tightly her shoulders couldn’t move ever again.

“What? It’s not like you can get _into_ the phone. And besides, my friends look out for me. They’ll be here soon enough. Just you wait.” She was defiant, looking at Carmilla like a steadfast toddler. Nauseating, she thought.

“You honestly think I can’t get into your phone?” Carmilla challenged.

“No way,” she answered, her grin turning smug.

“Fucking watch me,” she spat back, not failing to notice how this conversation made her sound like a tantruming child.

She turned her energy to the phone that rested in her hand. She knew some stuff from J.P., but not much. But she couldn’t call him. That would be admitting defeat. She wasn’t about to give Eagle the satisfaction. The first thing she looked for was a screen cover. Those things protected from scratches but not from oils in fingertips. Luckily it was a new screen cover so there weren’t too many worn down areas, except for the smudges right over where four numbers laid on the unlock screen. All she had to do was cross-reference those with numbers she remembered from other data digs that J.P. had done and she’d be set.

“Having some trouble?” the girl teased. Carmilla shook her head, muttering a “no” under her breath. Eagle seemed to think that she had won this round as she continued. “Well, it sure is taking you a while over there. Need a hand?” She smirked slightly, before knocking her handcuffs against the chair and causing a metallic clanging to bounce around the room. She continued to smirk, clearly proud of her terrible joke.

The “tying down with rope” fantasy infiltrated Carmilla’s mind once again.

Carmilla was only ever fueled by three things: 1) Promoting future laziness, 2) Gaining personal pleasure and 3) Proving people wrong. This girl was truly driving her motivation home with #3. It was also helpful that the girl was so goddamn predictable, the four numbers smudged out were also the four that ended her email address. She quickly punched in 1-6-9-8 and the phone unlocked before her eyes. She grinned, but because of her forced poker face in the way of a helmet, the girl didn’t know how badly she lost to Carmilla.

“No, I think I’m good,” Carmilla responded, through a grin. “I’m just going to polish off this reply to Danny Lawrence and then we can continue to talk terms, yeah?” There was nothing more satisfying than watching all of the color drain from the girl’s face. Carmilla hadn’t even read the text from Danny, but based on the reaction, she knew she struck gold. She began to read through it when the girl spoke up once again.

“Just because you can read the recipient from the lockscreen doesn’t mean you actually got in. Try again.”

“‘Hey kid,’” Carmilla started, her head down. “‘I thought it would make sense to text you here, rather than on the drop phone you brought with you to the raid, in case the enemy picked it up.’ Wow, even she knew better than to bring a personal phone on a high risk break in. You should take some advice from your friend here.” Carmilla was mocking her and the girl was getting fed up, once again.

“Shut the hell up and give me my phone.”

“Not a chance. Besides, that bunched up face you make when you’re pissed off is hilarious, buttercup.” The girl narrowed her eyes and brought her lips together in a vicious pout. “May I continue?” she asked, looking for any indication to continue, though she definitely didn’t need one. “‘I didn’t see you after we heard the guards and split up, so I just wanted to make sure you got home safe. I’ll be at my apartment all night, let me know when you want to talk game plan.’ Wow, what a kind and considerate friend! I wouldn’t want you to leave her hanging, even though you are a little tied up at the moment.” Carmilla was attempting to sound as sarcastically considerate as possible, and she believed it was working. When she retires from Silas, maybe she should try acting. Wouldn’t that be great? “Let me just respond and then we can get back to this.” She gestured between the two of them at the word “this.”

The girl shifted in her seat slightly, obviously deep in thought. Carmilla was too, if it mattered. She was reading over their correspondence, trying to understand how the girl wrote and how to not tip off her friend that she was currently captured and tied up on the other end of the city. She knew she had to respond to Danny to prevent her from filing a “missing person” report, but a sketchy text could worry her even further. It was easy to pick up the girl’s texting style, however, and she was soon ready to send one.

“Please, don’t hurt her,” the girl said, barely above a whisper. “She’s just a-- _friend_ looking out for me. Please don’t set her up.” She refused to make eye contact when she said these things but Carmilla could sense a tinge of hurt in her voice.

“Why are you saying that?” Carmilla hadn’t even been thinking much about Danny and who she may be. She assumed that she was a friend, someone who knew about Eagle’s not-so-legal part time job. She wasn’t thinking that perhaps she was an integral part of the scheme, that maybe the ‘game plan’ she mentioned was because she was of high command in the group before her. The girl had overplayed her hand.

And Carmilla loved a good bet.

She began to reconsider telling Danny, in nicer terms of course, to simply fuck off.

The girl chose her words carefully before speaking. “This isn’t between you and her,” she said, her words full of consideration and deliberation.

There was a pause. It was stifling, the defeat that dribbled from the girl’s mouth. It was almost as if the brat of a girl had lost her insolence.

“Is she Phoenix?” Carmilla replied. The girl closed her eyes for a time too long for her to pass it off as a casual blink.

“If I tell you, will you leave her alone?” she challenged, as if she had a leg to stand on.

“Didn’t that just answer my question?”

Eagle let out a deep sigh and Carmilla looked at her, unflinchingly, for the first time in a while. Her eyes were still on the ground and for the first time she looked so fragile. “Fine, yes,” she answered. Her voice was heavy with regret and pain. “But you can’t send her to her death just because I did something stupid and left my phone on me. Don’t take out my mistake on her.”

Carmilla sighed, heavily. The sadness in the brunette’s voice was painful to hear and she didn’t want to hurt her like that again, for some reason. So she shook her head of any thoughts of torture or attack on Phoenix and decided on a different reply.

“‘Hey Danny. I made it home fine, thanks,’” she said slowly, as she dictated and typed at the same time. “‘It was a little hectic trying to avoid the guards so I’m just tired. I’m going to rest but I will talk to you soon, okay? Get a good night’s sleep.’” Carmilla looked up without pressing send. It sounded like what the girl would write, for all she knew, but she wanted some form of reassurance before sending it. Too bad the only approval would come from her current enemy. She asked anyway.

The girl nodded and looked at Carmilla. “Yeah, it sounds good,” she confirmed through a sniffle. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t do it for you, okay?” she muttered, accusingly. “I bet that she’d be down here in a minute to kill me and free you if she found out that you were actually captured. I’m doing it to save my own ass, got it?”

“Yeah, of course,” she girl replied. It sounded sad, but it didn’t change the grin that had been plastered on her face since Carmilla sent the harmless text.

And Carmilla wasn’t lying. This wasn’t for the girl. Nothing she ever did was for anyone else, unless they were family. She was loyal to her family but to this girl? No way in hell. She was nothing to Carmilla. Carmilla did this for herself, to save herself.

The girl’s smile was just a little something extra.


	4. Chapter 4

_12:33 AM_

For the most part, Carmilla was terribly non-punctual. It wasn’t necessarily that she was forgetful, though her occasional lapses in memory didn’t help the situation, or that she was particularly busy, though running a gang didn’t exactly free up her schedule, but rather that she didn’t give half a shit about being on time. Over the years, she had begun to learn and understand that being late to a heist or missing a window on a deal would have detrimental consequences. So for those, she was unbelievably on time. This was much to her mother’s pleasure, as she had been trying for the whole of Carmilla’s life to get her to learn the importance of promptness. Especially considering how prompt her mother always seemed to be.

Including now.

Carmilla’s phone began to ring in her back pocket exactly one hour after she received the text saying that her mother would do just that. She of course checked the caller ID before answering, blind trust would get her killed, and she knew better than to just pick up. But naturally, it was the Dean and so she walked to the corner to face away from her captured. This way, she could remove her helmet in peace, without Eagle seeing her.

“Hallo?” she answered. Whenever they were on a business call with any sort people in the near vicinity, they would switch to German. Morgan picked it because of their Austrian background but also because it was less popular than some other languages. Carmilla was still shit at the tenses in German (who really needs _that_ many futures and conjunctive tenses?) but they made it work.

“Carmilla dear, glad you picked up so I can properly reprimand you for what you have done.”

“Ah ja, wie geht ist gut, wie gehts Sie?” she mocked, since her mother clearly didn’t ask how she was.

“If you think that this is some kind of a joke, you are gravely mistaken,” the voice through the receiver continued. Carmilla put her helmet down and sat on a stool, still facing the corner of the room she was situated in.

“Was ist los?” She needed to know what her mother was talking about and what was happening.

“My men at headquarters were able to track down more information about this girl,” she started again and Carmilla knew she was in for it. “They were able to get _actual_ information about her, not just her alter-ego like your people could find. I don’t know why you insist on using that man with the initials; he is truly awful at his job, unless his job is using google searches and craigslist wanted ads.” She hated when her mother got like this. _Her_ people were just fine, for the record.

“J.P. ist wie meinen Bruder. Ich kann nicht sonst jemand vertrauen,” Carmilla explained. It was true; she wasn’t about to throw away the years of trust between her and J.P. Maybe he did drop the ball for a second there, but Carmilla still liked him. This was bigger than just hired help; he was basically family.

“I don’t care if you see him as a brother, he didn’t do his job and now we’re left to suffer through the consequences.” Consequences? She caught a drifter robbing a bank and now there are consequences? “Does the name Hollis mean anything to you?”

“Nein.”

“You really ought to start reading the emails I send you. Captain Hollis of the 11th Precinct of Anywhere City has had it out for us for years now. He is the only man we can’t currently pay off. He has connections all over the country and as far as we know, he’s the last good cop.” She scoffed at that and Carmilla smiled. If she had learned one thing from this job, there was no such thing as ‘good cops.’ Some just had a higher payoff rate than others. “However silly the notion sounds, it’s true. Just last week, one of our men got stuck serving his full sentence for a petty drug crime and not even a million dollars could pay off the Captain. I’m pretty convinced that he doesn’t even have a monetary price, and I’ve never thought that of anyone before. It’s terribly exhausting.”

Carmilla knew it would be. If you didn’t have your men on the inside to prevent losing your men on the streets, you really couldn’t win big for your unit. That aside, she really wasn’t getting the connection yet.

“Warum ist das wichtig?” Carmilla asked, trying to figure out Eagle’s part in all of this and why Captain Hollis mattered.

“Well, you see my love, that’s his daughter.”

“Was machen wir?”

“We’re going to do exactly what needs to be done to make sure that this never gets back to Captain Hollis or so help me god, you will not make it to the New Year, do I make myself clear?”

Carmilla tried to hold in a gulp, not wanting to give Eagle the satisfaction. However, her mother was fucking terrifying and she hated remembering the last time that she was on the receiving end of her threats. “Genau.”

“Good. Now that I have your attention, we can talk business.”

Carmilla and her mother talked a slight bit more before they decided to begin the necessary first steps of the Dean’s plan, that Carmilla wasn’t exactly fond of. She still thought that a murder would be a perfect way to end all of this but Morgan insisted that they wouldn’t be able to get away with it, with the Captain being a major contributing factor. He would clearly get all of the best people in on that job and wouldn’t stop until he had figured out who killed his only daughter and in the process, probably wipe Silas off the map.

Morgan believed that a better planned murder and dump would probably work best and even said that Eagle could be “one of the five.” This was something that Carmilla hadn’t thought of really, since it usually happened in late October and they were currently in mid-August.

Every year, for reasons out of her knowledge and beyond her control, Silas, and by extension Carmilla, had to kill five people and dump them into the river. This was what Eagle was meant to be investigating. It happened every year and she never bothered asking about it. In all honesty, it was rather gruesome and sometimes, ignorance is bliss. Her mother told her to do it, and who was she to go against the tried and true traditions of a national gang? Besides, so many people died every day in Los Santos, what’s another five? It was a ritual that the cops pledged to ignore, some insider business that Carmilla knew of but didn’t personally operate, and their bodies weren’t ever dug up from the riverbed. It was as if they got eaten up down there.

Eagle would never be seen again.

Morgan liked the idea of pushing the sacrifice to this weekend, giving her only 48 hours to find four more targets and make her way over. It seemed viable, pragmatic, even if difficult to manage. Carmilla would have to use Eagle’s phone though, to perhaps lure some of her people in for the sacrifice. Morgan had caught wind of Will, the son out in Liberty, that one of the Zeta brothers were cohorts with Eagle and therefore would make a prime target. In the meantime, Carmilla would also have to stay with Hollis, to make sure nothing happened to her either. Even worse than killing her too early would be letting her go back to the world with this information in mind.

They would have to wait a handful of hours, maybe even a day, before actually doing anything with Eagle, but aside from that, it seemed that the conversation had led to something better than no plan at all. As far as Carmilla could tell, the plan was pretty good, conscience be damned, and well, isn’t that all that mattered?

She ended the call after the decision to stay put and wait for further instructions was reached between them. Carmilla took a few minutes to breathe in the unfiltered air before putting her helmet back on. It sucked going from the cool feeling of air in her lungs and clear vision to musky and hazy everything, a messy blur of life. She felt like she was being pulled down after that conversation, but she was going to blame it on the weight of the helmet.

Carmilla had learned a couple of important things from the phone call but what to do with the information had her stumped. Sure, she could lay some cards on the table and play it from there; she had a good hand, now knowing who Eagle was, for the most part, and having permission to eliminate her soon. But at the same time, she didn’t want to give the girl the satisfaction. Also if Eagle knew that Carmilla knew, then maybe she would be fighting harder against all of this as a last ditch effort.

At least she now had an explanation for how the Eagle was so good for someone so new. Living with a police captain for a father must have had its perks.

She decided to play it cool, to not let the girl in on the information she had. It would be easy for her, since she could just stop talking. She made her way over to the chair on the other side of the table and sat, resting her feet on the table before her. She was really wishing she had brought a book at this point, since she’d be alone with Hollis and nothing else for at least the next 24 hours. She considered napping, briefly, since the girl probably wouldn’t notice anyway, what with the helmet and all. She lolled her head back, arms folded, and despite the unfortunate position, she was able to drift off a little.

“Why do you have that?” Well, as they say, all good things must come to an end.

“Why do I have _what_ , creampuff?”

“You know, the helmet.” Carmilla sat up straighter now, since it was quickly becoming apparent that this was not going to be a short conversation, thus making a nap impossible. “I mean, it’s not fused to your head since you took if off when you were on the phone. And you’re obviously not riding a bike right now so it’s not like you need it.”

“Why do you have the balaclava?” Carmilla responded with a low voice. It was slow and harsh and she was hoping it would sound intimidating enough to shut her up.

“I wore it so I couldn’t get caught.” It didn’t. “Which in retrospect, didn’t really work out in my favor, huh?” The girl laughed and Carmilla couldn’t help but laugh too, as dumb as the comment was.

“It’s to protect my identity, cupcake, which is why you wore your mask too, even if you didn’t realize it.”

“I’m not wrong, you know.” God, why wouldn’t this girl just shut the fuck up already?

“About what?” It was hardly phrased like a question, her words getting curter as she got more frustrated with the conversation.

“I _did_ wear the mask to not get caught, but in the streets. If I had made it out of the bank and kept my balaclava on, I would have been able to remove the mask and avoid getting caught.” She spoke as if she was a news broadcaster, informational and upbeat, with just a touch of condescension. Carmilla didn’t know where she got off talking like that. “The masks we wear are to protect us from letting whatever happens here, while we’re wearing them, become tied to who we are out there, and vice versa.”

“Just as I said. To protect identities.”

The girl thought over Carmilla’s point for a minute before continuing. “But that’s why I was wondering why you’re still wearing it. You keep threatening me but you won’t let me see who you are. If your threats are true, I won’t make it to see who you are out there so the connection you are trying to prevent me from making won’t be one that holds up for very long. Your identity, as you say, would die with me.” She paused a second and Carmilla considered her. She had a crinkle in her brow that could be seen, just barely, through the eye holes. Her face was made into a slight pout as she thought and Carmilla couldn’t help but think her adorable. Pathetic and weird, but adorable nonetheless. “If I had control over my hands, I’d have taken this mask off ages ago. You already have my phone with my info and, well, my selfies and you’re going to kill me anyway so...” she continued carefully, softly. “I don’t have anything to hide anymore.”

“Well isn’t that just great for you?” Carmilla muttered, dropping her head back into its lounging position. She tried desperately to push any thoughts of the girl straight from her mind. It didn’t matter if she had a nice voice and was kind of funny and was some sort of clever that Carmilla couldn’t help but appreciate, she was a target. And Carmilla didn’t grow any feelings towards marks.

“What I’m saying is that you can take the balaclava off,” the girl continued, this time sounding almost gentle and sweet in her words. “I don’t have a use for it anymore.”

Carmilla knew that there was one reason and one reason alone that she didn’t remove the mask from the girl first thing and that was that she didn’t want to humanize her. Carmilla couldn’t bear to see a girl, a real live person, sitting before her that she would have to kill. The mask was a barrier, a way of hiding anything real about her. This is why she didn’t commit murder by herself. If she saw the girl as, well, a girl, she may lose the balls to kill her. And she couldn’t do that.

She also couldn’t say that was the case.

“Now that wouldn’t be fair, would it, cutie?” Carmilla answered rhetorically, her voice lowering to a timbre of seduction.

“Then you could take yours off too, assuming that I won’t live to see another day,” the girl challenged. That was some Grade A bullshit coming from her, trying to be intimidating. But of _course_ she had to have a fucking point.

The girl seemed to always have a damn good point, didn’t she?

But Carmilla couldn’t take off the helmet because it was her safety blanket. Beyond protecting her identity, beyond hiding who she was, beyond even keeping her “air of mystery” as she called it, she couldn’t bear to be that naked in front of another. Part of her power came from how perfect, strong and unflawed she was as the Panther. She wasn’t ready to give that up, even if this girl’s life was only just temporary. Removing the helmet would take away any ideals the girl had concocted and as embarrassing as it was, Carmilla was terribly self-conscious.

“Believe it or not, cupcake, but there is more to this world than just you,” Carmilla muttered with disdain. “I can’t trust that there won’t be a bumbling imbecile that may make their way into the warehouse this evening. I wouldn’t want to risk that.” She started picking at her fingernails now, trying to make herself seem even more disaffected.

She wasn’t sure if it was working or if the girl would ever get the hint.

“You can’t think that I’d actually believe that, could you?”

“Excuse me?”

“What? You make it like you _don’t_ have at least half a dozen guards hanging around this place. I might have been blindfolded but I could still hear them all talking. Also, isn’t this place in the middle of nowhere?”

The anger back route was clearly ineffective so Carmilla was ready to jump ship on that idea. Getting angry only riled the girl up more so Carmilla just decided to completely tone down the sass and go for the incredibly lazy approach instead. This route also had a higher chance of leading to a nap than any other one so that was part of its charm.

“You never know, poptart.”

“That’s gotta be the worst nickname you’ve used so far,” the girl responded with a joking tone. Carmilla prayed that this would be the end of it. “There’s a real reason and I know it.”

Of course it wasn’t the end.

“Sweetheart, look. There isn’t some big scheme happening, I just like my helmet where it is and I want to sleep, so if you could just stop, I won’t have to retie a bandana to your mouth so we can all have some goddamn peace and quiet.” She was almost pleading at this point, becoming increasingly upset with the whole ordeal.

“I bet it’s the same reason you won’t call me by my name. Have you even learned my name?” the girl questioned.

Again.

“You probably don’t want to realize you know me from somewhere and blow this whole thing.”

That motherfucker.

“It’s fine, but I know you could know my name by now. Have you even looked at it on my phone?” Carmilla couldn’t believe how much this girl could talk without seeming to breathe. “It’s been face down on that table since you texted Danny so it’s pretty obvious that you’re avoiding research on me. I just don’t really know why though.”

“And you _really_ don’t think it’s because of the reasons I told you? Or that I already have all the information I need?”

In her defense, that last part is true. Her mother recovered the rest of the necessary information, clearly, so she didn’t need it for the moment.

Also she didn’t want to waste the iPhone’s battery. They don’t make phones like they used to.

“No, actually.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, cupcake. It really is that simple.”

“In that case, I guess I’ll stop talking.”

 _Fucking finally_ , Carmilla thought to herself, settling lower into her chair for a nap. She grunted out a noise of thanks and acknowledgment before turning her head slightly away from the girl.

She was somewhat proud of her self control and how she didn’t attempt to find out more about the girl. Her name may just set her over the edge, making her too relatable for Carmilla to kill.

However, if she kept being this annoying, which it appeared she was unable to quit being, it would hardly matter.

“It’s Laura, by the way. Laura Hollis.”

So that didn’t matter. Right?


	5. Chapter 5

_3:01 AM_

The next few hours went as uneventfully as you would expect from two polar opposites stuck, one literally, in a warehouse together, against their will. The girl, or Laura, as Carmilla now knew her, tried several times, though mostly unsuccessfully and to Carmilla’s dismay, to start up conversation about a variety of topics. Carmilla consistently answered in one word phrases with an attempt to shut her the fuck up.

It didn’t work.

“What’s your favorite color?” Laura asked looking around the room.

“Black.”

“How original,” she teased back. Her comfort level with this whole situation was rising and that was beyond weird and irritating. “And it’s not a color. It’s achromatic.”

Carmilla grunted in response.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what mine is?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s yellow,” she grinned. “I know it may not seem like that, considering my current attire.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. This girl was too much.

“What’s your favorite animal?” she began again.

“Cat.” She didn’t know why she was playing along, but it beat the alternative. Last time she tried to ignore her, Laura asked the same question a dozen or so times until Carmilla answered, a broken record of epic proportions. It was brutal.

“Of course it is, _Panther_ ,” Laura joked with a wink. “Mine is a bear. You see, my dad is terrified of bears, thinks they will sneak up and kill me or something. He’s never been to Los Santos.” She paused to laugh at her own joke, though she was right about the lack of bears in the area. “So I like them. Just to spite him.”

A small smirk played on her lips. Out of all of the things about this girl, Carmilla liked her sarcastic and sassy side the best. In fact it was the only tolerable part of her.

“So I’m guessing you figured out who my father was by now,” the girl said, glancing over at Carmilla. She seemed almost guilty to bring him up. Carmilla bet he didn’t know that Daddy’s Little Girl was out and about running a gang in the crime capital of the country. Even if she thought that it was for all the right reasons.

“I have.” Her tone was flat, dull and even as she barked the words into the room.

“Is that why you haven’t killed me yet?” She could hear the girl take a breath on that one, maybe trying to decide where to go from there, gauging the response Carmilla would give. Carmilla didn’t give her the satisfaction, choosing to not dignify the pathetic attempt of an attack with a response. “You know so much about me, I want to know more about you.”

“But you already know my favorite color and favorite animal. Truly there couldn’t be any more to discuss here,” she replied with sarcasm dripping off her tongue.

“What’s your name?” Laura asked her this with her usual optimistic and upbeat tone.

She couldn’t be serious.

“I’m not telling you that.”

“And why not?” She sounded like a condescending child.

“That’s not for you to know.”

“Why won’t you just tell me?”

“My name? Are you kidding, cupcake?” Carmilla wasn’t in the business of getting on a first name basis with her victims, even though they were halfway there already.

“You know my name,” Laura stated, using her best persuasive voice. “I just want to know your first name, that’s it.”

“I have a unique first name.”

“So?”

“It’ll give away my identity.”

“Aren’t I dying here anyway?”

“Seriously just shut the fuck up.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Panther.”

“Eagle.”

“Tell me.”

“Fucking fine, it’s Carmilla.” She hated how this girl reduced her to a temperamental infant. It was so embarrassing and now she told Laura her first name.

“Car-mil-la,” she sounded out like a toddler. “I like it.”

Her heart fluttered for a second.

But that was merely coincidence.

She ended up getting Laura to stop talking with the threat of the bandana. There was more deliberation time than Carmilla had expected, before she conceded with a defensive “alright fine, I’ll stop.” She wasn’t anything if she wasn’t pushy. But when it came down to it, the choice between voluntary quiet and compulsory silence wasn’t that much of a decision to make at all.

And it lasted for some time. Until, as if cursed by whatever higher being there was, Carmilla’s stomach growled.

Of course it did.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Yes you are, your stomach just rumbled.”

“Do you want the fucking bandana?”

“No,” she mumbled, folding in on herself slightly. “But don’t starve yourself on my account.”

“I’m not.”

“Good,” she replied smugly.

Carmilla’s stomach made another noise and she groaned.

“You so are.”

“You know what?” Carmilla asked, jumping up abruptly and slamming the pistol she was toying with on the table, her fingers still resting upon it as she stood. “Shut the fuck up. I’ll be right back.”

Carmilla walked over to the door and pulled it open a crack. The guard standing there jumped to attention but she calmed him down with a couple mutters of “it’s fine, everything’s fine” and a gentle touch to his bicep.

“I was just wondering what the chances of you hooking me up with Chinese food would be,” Carmilla muttered.

“Pretty high,” the guard muttered in his husky voice. “Charlie and Delta were going to switch out for the night but we can keep an extra here while I head to the city.”

“Nice, just get me the usual,” Carmilla said, handing him a $20. She thought for a second before adding “And an extra egg roll.”

“You got it, boss,” the man answered with a nod. Carmilla slinked back inside.

She took her spot back across the table from Laura and rested her feet up on the desk. The girl had gone back to not speaking so Carmilla decided to revel in the quiet. She listened to the ticking of the clock on the wall and to the calm breathing of her companion. She listened to the slight whir of the fans above their heads and the occasional breeze outside the warehouse windows. She had heard that they were due for some storms in the area, torrential downpour was likely this weekend. She wondered if the breeze would amass to that.

She really should have asked Beta to get her a book while he was out.

He returned under 30 minutes after he left, placing a platter of fried rice, sesame chicken and two egg rolls before her. He returned to the perimeter after a “thank you” sent in his direction and a nod of his own.

She opened the chopsticks before pausing a realizing her grave mistake.

“So how are you gonna eat that?” the girl teased from across the table, gesturing to the helmet still over Carmilla’s face.

“I’ll just face the other way while I eat. No big deal.” She shrugged it off nonchalantly as she tugged the takeout container to her lap before turning around.

“Come on, you don’t have to do that, we’ve been through this,” the girl pleaded, a whine heavily present in her voice.

“And we came to the conclusion last time that the helmet stays on,” she replied sternly. Laura huffed behind her as Carmilla continued to face the wall. It was getting stupid how stubborn she was about the helmet. She really didn’t need it here, that much was obvious, but she wanted to keep it on. But she also wanted to eat without spilling rice all over her lap.

The latter was beginning to win out.

After removing her helmet and trying to use her lap as a table, she managed to nearly ruin a perfectly good pair of leather pants while wasting food in the process. Wastefulness, messes and stains were becoming way too much for her.

“Fuck it,” Carmilla muttered to herself, grabbing the food and spinning around to place it on the table. She kept her head hung low as she stood, head hovering over the table. From her periphery she could see a pair of creeping eyes checking her out from behind a balaclava. She kept her head low, not wanting the girl to feel that she had won everything. However she still couldn’t tell how much Laura could see with her unrelenting eyes.

“You done?” Carmilla asked accusingly. The girl began to stumble over her words, barely making out a full sentence of apologies or backtracking before Carmilla waved her off with a limp hand. The gesture was meant to say “cut it out” but she couldn’t help but think Laura read it wrong as she mumbled a “thanks.” As if Carmilla would be telling her that it was okay to stare.

As if.

Carmilla sat down while keeping her head down but noticed quickly that to actually see her food, she had to pick her head up. Whatever. She wasn’t doing this for Laura and she just wanted to eat in peace. It was that fucking simple. That’s why she was doing any of this in the first place. She just hoped the staring would to come to an end.

Yet it didn’t.

The second she moved her head up she could tell the girl was staring without even looking at her face. When she did look over to Laura, her eyes were wide and her mouth was slightly open. Her eyes were trained steadfastly on Carmilla’s left cheek.

“What are you fucking staring at?” Carmilla growled. The girl averted her eyes immediately and started stammering again as she was so prone to do. “That’s what I thought.”

Carmilla knew she had a hideously abrasive scar on her left cheek that ran up her face, around her eye, cutting into the edge of her brow bone. She knew how people on the streets of Los Santos looked at her, not really sure where it came from, whether it was a case of a girl getting attacked or if the 5’3” girl was really that badass to get involved in organized crime. But for some reason, it was even worse that it was Eagle who was staring at her this way.

She turned back to her chicken then. That was the whole reasoning behind removing the helmet, anyway. She just wanted to enjoy her fucking dinner in peace.

“You’re really attractive,” the girl muttered, her eyes looking over Carmilla’s head. Carmilla’s brow furrowed and she placed her chopsticks down to the table. Where did that come from?

“What, you fucking gay or something?” She said it with a hint of disgust. She was trying to get the girl to stop trying to compliment her and make her feel better about the staring. Laura was staring because Carmilla had a fucked up face and that was the only reason. It’d be foolish to think she actually meant it.

“Yeah, actually.” She shrugged. Carmilla narrowed her eyes. “I’m like, the gayest of the gays, no joke.”

Carmilla moved a piece of chicken around her platter, thinking to herself. “Yeah. Me too, I guess,” she replied with a smile. It was undeniably embarrassing to think that she still got excited to meet other lesbians. She wasn’t a kid anymore and this wasn’t about finding herself. And it’s not like romantic or sexual relationships were good for shit, especially considering these circumstances.

But in a way, she felt connected to the girl just a little bit.

Laura smiled slightly and when Carmilla made eye contact with her again, she couldn’t help but think there was a blush under her mask.

The silence died down after that conversation, neither sure where to go from there. Carmilla continued to eat and Laura, well, sat there. Carmilla didn’t speak again until she looked down at her plate again. “Oh. I got you an egg roll,” she said quietly.

“You did?” Laura sounded surprised.

“Yeah,” she muttered, tapping it with her chopsticks. She could feel Laura smile from across the room and it was grating on her nerves. “I just can’t imagine how unbearable you would be if you got hungry.”

“Gee thanks,” she said sarcastically. Carmilla smirked a little. Sarcasm was still her best quality, and there was no shame in recognizing it.

“No problem.” Carmilla resumed eating and she kept her focus before her. At least she did one nice thing for the girl before she killed her. She wasn’t as cruel as her mother.

“But, how do you expect me to eat that?” Laura asked, breaking Carmilla from her thoughts.

“With your...” _hands_. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll feed you,” Carmilla informed her. Or offered. It was hard to tell her intent now that she had softened so much towards this girl.

“How pathetic do you think I am?” she asked, accusingly.

“Well you’re tied to a chair so I’d say pretty pathetic,” she mocked with a grin, looking towards Laura.

“You can’t give me one single hand for food?”

“You’re a high flight risk.” She said it so calmly that it just riled the girl up more.

“Where am I going with a chair strapped to my wrist?” Her voice was hitting new octaves as she got more upset. It was hilarious.

“Canada, probably,” Carmilla sneered.

“What if I promise I won’t even try to leave?” Laura was asking with a sad whine in her voice again, and it wasn’t irritating so much as innocent and sad.

“Why would I take a promise from you?”

“We’ve spent some time together, don’t you trust me?”

“No!”

“Come on!” she yelled, banging her chains into the chair like an insolent child.

“God, fuck it, just stop that,” Carmilla sputtered out. “You’re like a fucking toddler, I can’t take it.”

“So you’ll free me?” God, she was nothing if not persistent.

“One hand,” she sighed. “And just tell me that you won’t remove the balaclava.”

“Seriously?” Laura asked. Carmilla nodded.

“Just say it,” she said, defeat apparent in her voice. It was getting late, after all.

“I won’t take off the balaclava.”

“Was that so hard?” Laura rolled her eyes at the question.

“I don’t know why you’re so preoccupied with that. I’m not pretty, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she muttered, head tilted down. Carmilla swore she could hear her finish the sentence with a “not like you” but it could just be the wind playing tricks on her. What did it even matter?

“What did you say?” Laura looked to Carmilla at her words, her eyes looking like a deer in headlights.

“Nothing.” She sounded so guilty though. Maybe she did actually say that. Maybe she was actually complimenting Carmilla’s looks.

Again.

Carmilla started to unfasten the handcuffs from her wrist. Laura, for once, handled the situation like an adult and didn’t protest. She even allowed Carmilla to reattach her left hand to the chair without so much as a budge.

When Carmilla turned to grab the egg roll for Laura, she heard something hit the floor. She whipped around immediately, anger bubbling to the surface for the millionth time this evening. Within seconds, Laura had removed the balaclava.

Carmilla was pissed the hell off.

Laura had lied.

She was fucking gorgeous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the lovely artwork for this fic! (http://awoodlandfox.tumblr.com/post/133620114233) Again, give her your kudos as well, as she did an amazing job and honestly, I'm still blown away by the art, so you should love it too :)


	6. Chapter 6

_3:59 AM_

“What the hell are you actually doing?” Carmilla was shouting at the girl whose smug satisfaction was slowly turning to something else entirely. _Guilt?_ It flashed across her features but was gone by the time she looked to Laura’s eyes. She didn’t have time to think, shit, she couldn’t even think, not with those beautifully light brown eyes looking at her. Especially not with the rest of her perfectly shaped face free, with her button nose and toothy grin and perfectly soft cheeks accompanying those eyes.

Hell, Carmilla couldn’t think straight at all.

She grabbed the balaclava off the floor and shoved it at the girl seated before her.

“You’re putting this back on or so help me god, I will shoot you in the fucking head.” She was still shouting and there was almost an underlying growl to her words.

“Nope,” the girl replied, shaking her head. “You’re not wearing yours, I’m not wearing mine.”

“We had a fucking deal,” she growled, thrusting the mask back towards her. “I said I’d free your hand if you kept your goddamn balaclava on.”

“I took it off, so what?”

“So I’m going to put a fucking bullet in your head!” Carmilla shouted. She had pulled the revolver from the holster on her hip with her other hand and was pumping it in a violent manner towards the girl in the chair, mimicking what could only be described as a movie gangster with piss poor acting abilities. However, it was still a pistol pointed directly at Laura’s face.

She held out her hand and Carmilla placed the balaclava in her palm. Using on the one hand, she managed to open it at the base and begin to pull it onto her face. Carmilla turned back to face the wall away from the girl, her thighs nearly touching the table before her. She placed her pistol down and sprawled her hands out on the metal fixture, leaning forward onto her elbow-locked arms. Her posture had always been terrible, a result of slight scoliosis and the lack of desire to change it in any way. Her back now arched, she hung her head low on her propped shoulders. She didn’t mean to get so angry back there but if someone figured out what she did, if Mother heard about the liberties she’s given this target, she would be dead before the week’s end.

If she made it that long.

“Hey, um,” a small voice spoke from behind her. Carmilla raised her head as she slowly turned around. She smirked at the sight before her, it was so ridiculous. “I might be a tad stuck.”

Which was an understatement. With the one hand, Laura was able to pull the balaclava onto part of her head, but only part. She must have tried putting it on by placing it on the back of her skull and pulling it up and around to the front. Somehow in the process, however, she managed to get it stuck on her ponytail which fell to the left side of her head and the mask just rested behind her head now. She smiled sheepishly as she gestured to the whole mess.

Carmilla sighed, her anger dissipating all too quickly. She took a step forward, leaving her gun and any other defenses she had behind. Gently pulling the hair tie out of the stitching, she detached the mask. She then started from the top of Laura’s head and pulled down the mask using two hands, one of each landing on the sides of her face, just below her cheekbones and hovering just before the column of her throat. It was just then when she realized how close they had become. She could feel a light exhale onto the backs of her hands, the girl’s jaw line beneath the tips of her thumbs. Her face was also only inches from Laura’s and their eyes met silently for a moment.

She hadn’t been this close to a girl in a while, especially not in such a tender way. Sure, fucking girls in the bathroom of sleazy pubs had its charm, but it was nothing like the gentle strokes of nervous fingers along delicate cheeks, readjusting strands of soft hair and breathing in each other’s air by the way of thieves. It was no match for stolen glances and misplaced hands that both seemed to linger for far too long, thoughts running ahead to what her lips would taste like, or how her hands would feel back.

Fucking drunk girls in bathrooms couldn’t hold a candle to Laura.

Carmilla backed up abruptly, eyes wide. _Whoa, where did that come from?_ she thought silently. She began to chastise herself, these thoughts that had run amuck were clearly from a lack of sleep, the forced situation they found themselves resting in. They were intrusive, wrong, a product of an exhausted ego and human desire. It wasn’t actual attraction because if it was, she would be fucked. So very very fucked.

Because actual attraction hadn’t been a thing Carmilla encountered since, well, Ell, and that was a story to never be revisited again, except whenever Carmilla would catch herself in a mirror. Scars from that unfortunate event were not just emotional, as the mark across her face, among other sloppily healed scars across her body, all deliberately delivered from her mother, served as a near constant reminder.

_Do not trust anyone, do not disobey orders, do not fall in love, do not betray family._

She repeated the mantra to herself a few times as she headed over to the other side of the room. It was best this way, she knew, logically, but there was something to the way Laura looked at her. She could kick herself for centuries for being such a hopeless romantic, if she had that long.

But Laura, all immature grumbles and annoying rambling aside, was someone she would pick up in a bar, if that’s where they had found one another. Hell, maybe she’d even let her stay the night, considering how cuddly and soft the girl seemed to be. But she knew there would be a fire there, a passion. Laura was intense and daring; it had to correlate to the bedroom.

But Carmilla wouldn’t think about that. She couldn’t.

_What if it was just a hypothetical thought?_

She shook her head again. _No_ , she thought harshly. _No._

_Do not trust anyone._

_Do not disobey orders._

_Do not have feelings._

_Do not betray family._

Speaking of family, Carmilla decided that now was as good as a time as any to check her messages.

She should have picked an earlier time to do so, if the texts and missed calls were any indication.

**Mother** (01:11): Plans on my end have been set in motion. Update?

**Mother** (01:49): I have sent a few men out to capture targets. We currently have three, including one of Will’s friends. Have you got any of the Eagle’s people?

**Mother** (02:38): Carmilla, what is your status?

**Mother** (03:42): Darling respond before I assume you have been captured.

**Mother** (04:04): Your guards have confirmed that you are still in position. We have to talk about what else they saw immediately.

  1. Her mother must have sent them in recently; the last text was under 10 minutes old. What did they see? Were both girls unmasked at this point? Were they discussing egg rolls? Names? And on top of that, _two_ missed calls? She had to diffuse the situation carefully. She couldn’t handle another fuckup. Another black eye, another set of scars, another six months sent away. She scratched at her leather-coated arms nervously, trying to concoct the perfect response.



**Carmilla** (04:13): I don’t know what my men told you but everything is under control here. I will contact the last target when we need her, I don’t want to risk setting off alarm. I have Eagle and I am handling it.

Carmilla switched her phone screen off and groaned, leaning into the wall behind her. She wasn’t seated anymore, she guessed that she was pacing when she was thinking and panicking. The criticism was giving her anxiety and she felt her emotions rising. But those she could push away. The nervousness, the panic, those were tolerable. The guilt that was quickly mounting in her chest as she looked at Laura, was not.

_Do not fall in love._

Her phone buzzed in her hand and she looked down to see it was from mother once again.

**Mother** (04:16): I trust your judgment, my glittering girl. Do not let your guard down and I will see you in 3 hours. My jet is halfway across the country.

Carmilla sighed. Maybe she made it off the hook.

_Do not betray family._

She picked up Laura’s phone and faced away from Laura. She quickly pulled open the texting app and located the conversation between her and Danny. She had to think of a way to get Danny here and get her alone. She knew Danny and as a target, she was a safe bet. She was a Summer and she often did things without thinking. She would be the perfect fifth target.

_Do not disobey orders._

‘ _Hey Danny! I got stuck on the southside of town, could you pick me up?’_ No, that wasn’t it. That was too suspicious. Who gets stuck places like this? _‘Hi, I need you to come to this warehouse. I think it belongs to the Panther and I need you to help me gather intel.’_ Shit, that was wrong too. She’d no doubt bring more people and Carmilla couldn’t afford leaving her boys out there against Danny and whatever useless squadron she dragged along with her.

Carmilla sighed deeply. Later, she would text her. She could get her to go to Laura’s place and grab her from there. A different rendezvous point, that would do the trick. She just needed mother to trust her. What if she didn’t trust her?

She deleted the potential messages and locked the phone, slamming back onto the desk as she whipped back around in a huff.

“Is everything okay?” Laura asked, somewhat sheepishly, her mouth half full with the egg roll that Carmilla gave her after backing away before.

But why did Laura care? She didn’t, that was the bottom line.

_Do not trust anybody._

And Carmilla knew that, logically, but her gentle stare and her delicate tone, she couldn’t help but wonder.

“Yep.” She went back to her seat, propping her feet back up on the table. She started picking at her black nail polish again, which was beginning to fall off anyway.

“Cause it didn’t sound like everything was okay…” she trailed off, looking up at Carmilla with her head hung low. Maybe one day this girl would stop looking like a kicked puppy.

Carmilla wasn’t banking on that.

“And now you’re the expert on me?”

“Well, no, but--”

“Exactly,” Carmilla cut off. “No.”

Laura sighed and finished her food, still not keeping her eyes ever too far from Carmilla. She noticed this, of course, and it only bothered her marginally. At least her mouth was shut for five goddamn minutes.

“I have a question.”

How quickly five minutes are up.

“I probably won’t answer it.” Her eyes were closed and she was leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed across her chest. It was as comfortable as she’d be that evening and keeping her eyes closed made the whole room a tad more serene. Aside from the clatter and bounce of the metal chair on the linoleum floor from Laura’s apparent restless leg syndrome.

“So what happens to those five people every year?” She didn’t beat around the bush, did she? Carmilla wouldn’t be so fortunate.

“Back on this so soon?” Carmilla teased. “I don’t know, sundance.”

“Oh come on,” Laura pleaded with her. “I’m going to assume you’re done pretending like you don’t know anything about it…” _Oh shit, that was my alibi, wasn’t it? I guess that ship’s sailed._ “And I hope that you’ll just tell me.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. On the one hand, she was sick of lying about it but on the other, what right did this girl have in knowing?

“Think of it as my dying wish,” Laura reasoned. “I mean, I’m guessing you _have_ to kill them. Just, why do you?”

Carmilla let out a deep sigh. Well, she was about to die by a mysterious river body dump, she might as well give her peace of mind. “I don’t know why.”

“What do you _mean_ you ‘don’t know why?’” She was yelling again. “Carm, how can you just kill five people without wondering why?”

_Carm?_ That was new. She wasn’t going to get hung up on it. “My mom told me to.”

“That’s the lamest excuse in the book and you know it.”

“I also know it’s true.”

“So you, a big shot crime lord, just listen to your mother when she tells you what to do?” Laura looked absolutely dumbfounded at the idea.

“Considering she’s an even bigger and more powerful crime lord, yes.” Carmilla rubbed her eyes and looked over to Laura, whose mouth was slightly agape. “It’s just the way the world works, cutie.”

“Have you ever tried to stop it?” Laura asked in earnest. Carmilla shook her head and squinted her eyes to show her confusion at the cause of the question. “Because, you know, murder is, like, bad?”

Carmilla snorted slightly. “Does it matter if I did? It still happens, year after year.”

Laura seemed to remain quiet after that, her usual stubbornness fading quickly. Maybe she was trying to figure out exactly what Carmilla meant. Maybe she just knew that bugging her wouldn’t help her case either way. Carmilla relished in the quiet regardless.

When she first found this girl, she knew that she had a crime network. She even knew that she wanted to get into the Maze Bank. But somehow all of this interest in the murders, in the saving the little guy, was completely new information. This girl was dead set on changing something she knew nothing about, something that would ultimately kill her.

That would kill her tomorrow.

It was sad, in a way, but Carmilla couldn’t do a damn thing about it. She couldn’t let this girl go now, she already knew too much. She would be a huge risk for Carmilla and all of Silas. Not to mention Mother would kill Carmilla within seconds if she found out. What a true martyr this girl would be, for the pursuit of knowledge.

What a shame it would be to see such a hopeful little thing go.

Carmilla didn’t like this girl. Or at least, what this girl was doing to her. But she couldn’t deny the merit in believing in something and doing it. It was drive and ambition, though entirely skewed in execution. She meddled in things beyond her control, however, and for that, she had to be punished. Whether or not that was right.

Whether or not Carmilla wanted it to be that way.

She leaned back in her chair again and wondered if she should try to sleep. She had passed through the initial exhaustion of the night and was just bored at this point. She had always been slightly nocturnal so this wasn’t even bad for her. Laura let out a huge yawn, however, and seemed less experienced in staying up all night.

“Tired?”

Laura shrugged and smiled a small tired smile.

“So exhaustion is the only thing that can stop the talking. I’ll keep that in mind,” Carmilla teased through a smirk.

“I have more questions,” Laura shot back, her tone joking. “I was trying to be nice.”

It was now Carmilla’s turn to shrug. So that answered that. The girl was trying to ward off sleep, clearly, and more questions would probably do the trick. She would think of it as her good deed of the day, or her second good deed after the egg roll. With a smirk and just the tiniest pang of regret she said “Ask away.”

“So where did you get that scar?”

“Wow, you are really all about the hard hitting questions, Lois Lane.” Carmilla chuckled, darkly. It came off as defensive and harsh, but who could blame her? That was one hell of a question to start back up with.

Immediately following questions about murder.

“I’m sorry,” she said and it was so small. For once in her life, Carmilla swore she saw actual compassion on a face that was looking in her direction. How lonely a life she must have lived for this to be the first time?

Laura held her head low after that, clearly ashamed. Carmilla sighed. She slowly got up, starting with knocking her legs off of the table and standing up, leaning forward on her knees for balance initially. She walked over to Laura and gently touched the bottom of her chin with the side of her hand to get Laura’s attention. She looked up at Carmilla, still looking guilty. Actually, looking guiltier than she had the whole night. She kept eye contact with her though and Carmilla kept her face steady and calm. No resting bitch face, but no smile either

“Do you really want to know?” she asked gently, her pointer finger’s side still resting under the girl’s jaw. Laura nodded. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. She slowly pulled the balaclava back off of Laura’s face and turned away with it. She placed it onto the table behind her then turned back around to face Laura once again. Laura was stunned into silence, her mouth seemingly amiable but her eyes drooping slightly from lack of sleep. Carmilla leaned back on the table and sighed, before grinning the sweetest way she knew how.

“Well, buckle up, creampuff,” she muttered with a smirk. “You’re going to be in for a long morning.”


	7. Chapter 7

_4:57 AM_

“Before we get into this, I need a water,” Carmilla explained with a smirk, gesturing towards her throat. “I don’t usually talk much, but I feel like I’m about to.” She pushed off the table then, going to its other side. There was a case of water on the ground before her, so she bent over and grabbed two bottles before standing back up. She pointed one in Laura’s direction. “You want one?”

Laura nodded, a quiet “yeah” slipping from her lips. She grinned slightly at the consideration that Carmilla was showing. Carmilla tossed her the bottle then, underhanded, and it landed gently in Laura’s lap with a bounce. The grin had dissipated at that point, fear taking over as Laura was clearly not prepared for it. Carmilla shook her head. It clearly didn’t take much to get this girl flustered. It was almost cute.

Carmilla opened her bottle then, the crackle of the plastic pieces snapping echoed through the room. She meandered back to her seat beyond the table as she took a large gulp, before cracking her neck and sitting down. She also stretched her back, hearing a couple pops down the length of her spine, feeling like a cat after a nap. Her body was exhausted and stiff from the evening’s events and she was just realizing the extent now.

She shook that off. It was almost 5 AM and she just had a couple more hours today and she could bring herself back to her penthouse apartment and her entirely too large California king bed. She could cry thinking of the plush pillow top mattress and the Egyptian cotton sheets. It sounded like heaven to her now.

Laura clearing her throat interrupted her from her thoughts. She opened her eyes with a shake of her head.

“Right,” she muttered without affect. “I owe you a story.” She said it slowly and her movements mimicked her speech. She was more tired than she originally thought, which was demonstrating its effects in full force suddenly. Her deliberation was now more pronounced and her face was losing the dramatics of earlier. She was heading to her default state: apathetic.

It was good to be back.

“Actually, can you...” Laura trailed off, wiggling the water bottle in the air with one hand. She was smiling that sheepish smile again, the one that made Carmilla want to either roll her eyes or smile, she was never sure which. It was cute, in a way.

Carmilla obliged, getting up and opening the bottle. She chose to place the cap on the table, since Laura couldn’t use it regardless. Out of laziness, she didn’t make it back to her seat across the table, instead plopping herself onto the table itself. She was hunching over fully, her elbows on her thighs, her body the epitome of awful posture. She exhaled, puffing a bit of air out to blow her hair out of her face.

She looked to Laura then, gauging the setup of the room. They sat about eye to eye, though Carmilla knew she had a few inches on the girl from the table’s height. The hunched over position Carmilla adopted helped as well. She rubbed her hands together and hung her head low as she began to talk.

“When I was 15, I found out that my mom was a crime lord. By 16, I was in training to take over. I took over at 18 and then this scar happened when I was 22 because my mother--”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down!” Laura sputtered out, waving her water bottle around wildly.

Carmilla paused at looked at Laura, wiping her brow with the back of her hand, the jerky motions having spilled a decent amount of water around their personal area.

“What, cupcake?” Carmilla drawled, leaning her head back fully with a sigh. Even when she explicitly asked Carmilla a question, she was still talking.

“This is prime flashback material and you’re just blazing through it? Nope, nuh uh, no way.” She shook her head like a defiant toddler, a joking smirk plastered on her face.

“Do you want to do a reenactment? I’ll grab some actors, or better yet, how about we a fucking animator in here?”

“Nah, puppets would do. Ooh! Sock puppets would so work and they’re easy to make and--”

“Don’t you think this is making light of my tragic backstory?” Carmilla interrupted, impatiently. This girl _would_ ruin the only time she was supposed to be quiet by talking out her ass.

“Okay, fine, suit yourself,” Laura muttered sarcastically. Carmilla looked at her with raised eyebrows, silently questioning if she could go on. Laura sighed. “Could you at least, I don’t know, go a little slower? I want to know the full story, you know?”

Carmilla nodded then. What did it matter, anyway? The more she spoke, the less Laura could. It was a win-win for them.

“Alright then, here goes: I found out that my mother’s full time job was a crime lord when I was 15. She took me up to her office on the top floor of the Maze Bank, you know, the one with all the security that you so stupidly attempted to break into,” Carmilla said with a smirk and a gesture in Laura’s direction. She rolled her eyes but smiled. Carmilla was glad that they got to a place where Laura could laugh about that situation, even if it was only a few hours behind them. “Well, it was very _Lion King_ -esque; she basically walked me to the giant windows and said that the whole city was hers, so to speak, as far as the eye could see, and that I would inherit it.”

Laura laughed at the reference, and a big smile graced her face. Carmilla was beginning to enjoy that, especially with her face unmasked.

“She told me that I would begin training soon, so unlike other teenagers, I wouldn’t have to take on a part time job, or worry about college. She wanted me to get my high school diploma, at the risk of being seen as an unfit parent, but past there, she wanted me to just take on the good ol’ family business,” she said with mock enthusiasm. “The goal was to have me take over, under supervision, at 18. The trial period would last six months and if after, she saw fit, she would leave it to me, the whole Los Santos gang.

“Anyway, I started training that summer, when I turned 16. I saw the business end from the comfort of a bank penthouse office and even got some street tactical training. I started using my alias around then and even got to pick out whatever ride I wanted, so long as Mother could get her mechanic to beef it up. Bulletproof tires, tinted windows, turbo engine, the whole nine yards.

“I also learned how to conduct myself and the few rules of the trade: trust must be earned, Silas before anything, always listen to your superiors and don’t fall in love.” Laura quirked an eyebrow up at that last one, which made sense she supposed. “It’s to try to prevent someone using me to get information. It’s more like, ‘don’t date anyone.’ As if I’d fall so easily for someone using me.”

Laura let out a little snort of laughter at that comment and shook her head, taking a sip of water when she noticed the pair of eyes staring at her diligently.

“What, you’re not one for romantic notions then?” Carmilla asked, flatly.

Kindly, almost.

Laura shrugged. “Guess I’ve never found the idea of giving yourself to someone else, and like, trusting them to not break you, to be so great. I’ve tried. I’ve read all the books and watched all the movies but in practice, I’m always too afraid to get hurt. Other people, they just leave like it’s nothing, when it isn’t nothing and that just hurts like hell.”

“You know, buttercup, I hate to say this, but I understand.” Carmilla shook her head and looked out the window behind Laura’s head. The trees were rapping at the screen, making a slight commotion, and ricocheted droplets of water were painting the glass. It was beautiful, the mess it was making, but it was a mess nonetheless.

She may have understood Laura’s point, but she disagreed vehemently. She was a hopeless romantic, as much as she refused to admit it, and as much as it went against her persona. But Laura didn’t need to know that. “So I guess I broke some of those rules.

“There was this girl, Ell, and she was something else. Funny, hot, cute, clever, basically the whole package,” Carmilla stated with a smirk, even though it was laced with sadness. “She was a drifter, an aspiring actress from West Bumfuck, Pennsylvania or what have you. But things out in Vinewood don’t always work that way so she was left to make money by stripping, among other less glamorous pursuits…” Carmilla trailed off there, a dismissive hand gesture explaining the rest.

“I didn’t meet her that way, though, in case you were suspicious. I’d never, uh, _pay_ for sex; the whole culture around it is terribly rapey.” Carmilla rubbed the back of her neck then, dropping her head as her cheeks burned red. Since when couldn’t she talk about sex in front of people? Why was Laura, of all people, making her nervous? She looked up, raising her eyebrows in the process. She was met with a reassuring smile and she felt better about continuing.

She didn’t question why that was.

“So, uh, we met at a bar and I took her home, you know, but then it turned into more. We got breakfast the next morning and actually started dating, if you’ll believe that. I hated her jobs, so I told her as much. I even told her that she could quit them and I’d support her, that she could move in with me.”

“What a lesbian stereotype you are,” Laura interjected. Carmilla rolled her eyes.

“That was six months in, thank you very much.” Laura scoffed. “But, regardless, she started to get suspicious. What 22 year old has enough money to live that kind of life? So I told her that I worked for a bank, that I had a trust fund and took an accelerated path through college. Simple enough, right? But she didn’t buy it. I guess I didn’t talk about work enough or something, and she began to do research on me. Mistake #1 was that I left her alone in my apartment during the day, where she had access to all of my information. Breaking Rule #1: Trust must be earned.

“She found out some things, mainly that I had a burner phone, so she asked what it was that I was doing to make cash on the side. Or if I was cheating on her. I was so guilty that I came clean, telling her about my job, my gang. Everything. That was Mistake #2, not putting Silas above all else.

“When Mother found out, she was pissed. I promised her that Ell was cool with it, that she wouldn’t tell anyone or do anything about it. Mother told me to put an end to it anyway, to just add her to the sacrifice list for October, which was only a few days away. I refused, Mistake #3, disobeying my superior.

“I told Ell that we should run away, and we almost did. But Mother caught her selling out the whole gang to an officer, every last detail I ever told her. It hurt so bad. But it’s my fault, right? For breaking Rule #4? For falling in love?” Carmilla felt something gently touch her thigh. Was she crying? She rubbed her cheek, affirmatively answering her question, but it was so light. What was on her thigh was warm and soft, but solid and controlled. It was a hand, Laura’s to be specific, and when Carmilla made eye contact, she could see her pain was shared. Laura looked to her solemnly and nodded once, silently communicating that it was okay.

That she was okay.

And for the first time, Carmilla believed it.

“So she was put to death and I was left to deal with the consequences.” She pointed to her cheek’s scar. “Mother slapped me across the face when she found me and when I protested, she sliced a knife up my cheek. I was lucky she missed my eye, if we’re being honest here.” She smiled sadly. “She also hit me again and I had a black eye in the other eye for a week. Then there were the lacerations all down my torso and my arms, but those hide better. Usually.”

Carmilla rubbed awkwardly at her arm then, suddenly reminded of what lied beneath her leather jacket. Her right arm was crossed against her body, holding her left bicep with her hand. Laura looked at her, thoughtfully, words clearly getting caught in her throat for once. Carmilla groaned. “Just spit it out, cupcake.”

“Take it off.” Carmilla raised her eyebrows, halting the movement of her right arm as well. Laura pulled her hand back then, apparently needing it to properly coordinate the words in her head. “The jacket, I mean. If you want.”

Carmilla laughed as Laura closed her eyes with a sigh. That didn’t come out gracefully at all, and only one of them found that to be humorous.

“What I meant was that if you want to, you can take the jacket off. It’s hot in here anyway and you don’t have to be ashamed.” She paused. “Especially not in front of me.”

Carmilla nodded. It was August after all. She shrugged the jacket off her shoulders, a pair of eyes staring intently. They looked away when Carmilla’s found them. She folded the jacket over her arm and then placed it behind her on the table, next to the balaclava. She kept her eyes low and away from Laura then, folding both arms across her chest.

She knew how they looked. The scars crosshatched all down the arm, stopping around the elbow, with thick pink marks among them. There was a couple of burn scars too, but those were just another level of the hell Mother had unleashed on her. They were disgusting to look at; she should have just kept her jacket on.

A hand touched her knee again and she wasn’t surprised to see a pair of eyes looking into her own once again.

She was surprised about how okay that made her feel.

She dropped her arms at her sides and took a deep breath.

This wasn’t right. She couldn’t keep acting like this.

_Do not fall in love._

“Anyway, the cuts had to heal without stitches, since she wouldn’t let me go to the hospital. She locked me up for six months, with no human contact and just enough food to survive. It served me right though, to be punished for my actions. But now,” Carmilla muttered proudly, after a not-so-proud sniffle. “I know better.” She crossed her legs, properly dislodging Laura’s hand from its spot right above her knee.

“So that’s your story.”

“That it is, sunshine.”

“I’m sorry,” Laura said, tentatively reaching her hand out to place it as some form of comfort. Instead, Carmilla crossed her arms and Laura, reading the closed off body language, pulled it back to her lap, where her water bottle sat in between her thighs.

Carmilla shrugged for what felt like the millionth time that evening, taking a sip of water. “Don’t mention it, kid.”

They fell back into a silence then, and it was peaceful. The rain came down in a delicate pitter patter and Laura’s breathing was surprisingly even. There might have been a tinge of dawn on the horizon but with the clouds, it was hard to tell. Carmilla had lost track of time regardless.

She tapped the toe of her boot into Laura’s knee. Laura had been looking out the window to her right, a far off look in her eyes, but the tap brought her attention back. “Any more questions for me?” she asked with a smile.

Laura smiled back. “Of course,” she teased, lowering her head and her voice seductively, all while raising her eyebrows. “What’s your favorite pizza topping?”

“You are absolutely insufferable,” Carmilla laughed, shaking her head.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t have one, I guess,” Carmilla muttered. She never thought much about that. Besides, west coast pizza sucks. “I like it plain, or white pizza with broccoli.”

“Seriously?” Laura asked, incredulously.

“Why, what’s your favorite?”

“Meat lovers. Like pepperoni and sausage and bacon and stuff. Also, extra cheese.” She grinned to herself.

“That’s disgusting.”

“No way! And broccoli on pizza isn’t?”

“No, mine is delicious and healthy.”

“Pizza is never healthy,” Laura teased, crinkling her nose.

“Healthi _er_ ,” Carmilla emphasized. Laura rolled her eyes.

Carmilla smiled to herself. All things considered, Laura wasn’t that bad. But they were enemies. They were captor and captive, ridiculously screwed by the situation. But the way she smiled and teased and crinkled up her face into silly little expressions, she was so precious. If she wasn’t the bane of Carmilla’s existence, she might have even considered breaking Rule #4 for her.

But she couldn’t.

Not with her. Not like this.

She walked back to her chair then, putting as much physical distance as she could between them. She didn’t want to take any chances and being in Laura’s proximity was doing a number on her.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

“I have just one more question.”

“Shoot,” Carmilla mumbled monotonously.

“Is that an expletive or a command?” Carmilla raised her eyebrows. “Right, got it, okay, could I use the restroom?” She held up her empty water bottle, her legs crossed on the chair in a seemingly exaggerated manner.

“Must you?”

“Kinda, yeah, I don’t want to like soil my pants.” Carmilla rolled her eyes. “Come on, this is embarrassing enough already.”

“You’re going to try to escape.”

“You can literally handcuff yourself to me and come into the bathroom, I don’t even care.” She wiggled around in her seat, bouncing like a kid who didn’t yet master bladder control. “Please, please please!”

Great. Now she decided to start whining. Why did she like this girl again?

Wait, shit.

She didn’t like her. She didn’t at all.

She just thought that maybe in another world things could have happened with them.

Carmilla took a deep breath. She knew that the bathroom didn’t have any removable fixtures that Laura could use as a weapon and she knew that it would be cruel and unusual to keep her tied to the chair. But god, did she have to be so goddamn difficult this whole time?

“Fine.” Carmilla got up from her seat, grabbing her gun as she walked over. She put it in the holster and then pulled out the handcuff key from her pocket. “But if you try anything while I’m unhooking you, I will shoot you.”

“Fair,” she retorted. Carmilla nodded. She was fast, undoing the handcuff that was attached to the chair and quickly reattaching it to her right wrist. She was left handed, so the handcuffs didn’t even leave her at a disadvantage. She could still shoot and she still had the upper hand.

Even if she was bringing her captive to the bathroom like she was a kid she was babysitting.

Laura didn’t budge though, after standing up, so Carmilla gestured to the door next to the cabinet. “Let’s go, pumpkin, I don’t have all day.” When Laura continued to stay still, head tilted slightly down, Carmilla took the initiative. She began to drag Laura along when she felt a tug on her right wrist that was lagging behind, due to Laura.

She whipped around then, the jerk catching her off guard.

Spinning on her heel, she tried to ask “What was--”

But she was too busy. Getting cut off by a kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

_5:48 AM_

If Carmilla would have afforded herself the luxury of imagining what it would be like to kiss Laura, she would not picture this. This right here was a hot mess. It was not gentle or sweet, sensuous or soft. No, this? This was rough. It was teeth mashing together as they sloppily opened their mouths. This was uncoordinated tongues missing each other and lips moving quickly and terribly out of sync. So when Laura pulled back, Carmilla knew why.

But when she tried again, this time her right hand cupping Carmilla’s left cheek, running her thumb over the scar in a feather light touch, while her fingertips gripped Carmilla’s neck and jaw and her lips held Carmilla’s in a more deliberate way, the kiss was much better. Carmilla took her free hand and grasped Laura’s right hip possessively, pulling her closer. She opened her mouth slightly and Laura’s tongue moved into the space she allotted. She felt herself being pushed back and she held onto Laura for dear life, still uncertain of what to do with her cuffed right hand.

She didn’t remember walking backwards until her back hit the bathroom door. Laura was pressed flush against her at this point, and Carmilla wrapped her hand around further to hold her by the small of her back.

This was the first time in a long time that Carmilla had been kissed like this, with both fiery passion and true compassion. With her face being held and just her lips being touched. Nothing had been so simply nice, since, well, Ell.

Carmilla pushed her back then, hard. Laura fell back a few paces, only held up by the handcuffs attaching them together. She nearly tumbled to the floor at the shove.

“No, fuck you, you can’t do that!” Carmilla was shouting and she didn’t even care.

“I think I can though; care for another demonstration?” She spoke with seduction, stepping in closer to Carmilla once again.

“No, you fucking can’t.” Carmilla flipped them around then, pushing Laura hard into the door, their linked arms in an armbar across Laura’s chest. “What the hell were you possibly thinking? I have half a mind to kill you right fucking now.”

She moved her hand frantically around, trying to grasp her pistol and meanwhile, stop the ever apparent shaking in her movements.

“Oh come on, don’t do anything rash,” Laura muttered. It sounded so half-assed, like Laura wasn’t even worried.

“Wait, wait, wait, you’re telling _me_ not to be rash?” Carmilla demanded. She tightened her grip on the pistol on her hip. “When _you_ just kissed the woman who is going to kill you?”

Laura rolled her eyes and was about to say something in protest when Carmilla lifted the handgun to Laura’s temple. Her breathing quickened and Carmilla could feel her chest pounding.

Serves her damn right.

“No, no, no please,” Laura pleaded. Her eyes were welling up with tears and her eyes were darting desperately around, rarely holding contact with Carmilla’s. “You can’t do this, please don’t do this.”

Tears were pleading to roll down her cheeks now and she looked so pathetic. Carmilla should have known better than to even talk to this girl. She was nothing to her, nothing but a stain on her life. A mess she should have avoided.

A girl she should have killed six long hours ago.

Carmilla opened her mouth to tell this girl as much when she felt fingers wrap around her left hand that held a gun. Carmilla looked up then, unaware that she had dropped her head while she was thinking. She saw then Laura’s eyes and nothing else. They were still that beautiful light brown she had been staring at since 11, but with her bloodshot sclera, the green and gold flecks were more prominent. They were teary, but they looked like they absolutely glistened.

No one should be this pretty when crying.

She dropped the gun then. She brought it to the holster and Laura’s hand deconnected with hers. Once the pistol was situated, she brought her hand to the other girl’s cheek and wiped away a tear. She dropped her other arm from its position across Laura’s chest. She felt a soft hand rest atop hers, as her thumb mindlessly circled a freckled cheek.

Carmilla isn’t sure who initiated it but soon she was being embraced by the slightly shorter woman. She felt warmth trickling down her cheeks and she knew how fucked she really was.

Crime lords didn’t cry. Hell, _she_ didn’t cry. Especially not over a disposable, annoying, goody-two-shoes…

Her thoughts were cut off by another kiss.

“Goddammit, Laura, no,” Carmilla muttered, pulling away after a few seconds. “We can’t _do_ that. I can’t…”

“Then why do you keep kissing me back?”

_Because it feels like taking my helmet off after breathing stale air and seeing through blurry vision. Because it’s disastrously beautiful, messy and tranquil like a thunderstorm. Because it’s the best kiss I’ve had since Ell. Because it feels like coming back to life._

_Because it is worth dying for._

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

“What do you want me to say, Laura? That this changes everything?” She shook her head. “This doesn’t change anything. I’m sorry to give you false hope.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No, I don't accept that. I don't.” Laura was shaking her head violently. Carmilla sighed and ran her fingers backwards through her hair. “You tell me your story, you took care of me, you didn't kill me yet, hell, you _cried_ in front of me! More than once, might I add. You can't tell me you don't feel anything.”

“Laura…” Carmilla didn't know what to say to that.

“No, don't you dare!” Luckily she didn't have to say anything. “ _This_ is something.” She gestured wildly between them.

Maybe she was fucking right.

“But that doesn't change…”

“What? What doesn't it change?” Carmilla shrugged and started to open her mouth noncommittally. “Maybe it doesn't change things. But we can.”

“Cupcake, we can't just end all of this.”

“But we can!” She was so blindly optimistic it was almost infectious. But mostly, it was obnoxious. “Do you even like your job?”

“Yeah!” Carmilla shot back defensively.

“Really?”

Carmilla bounced on the balls of her feet for a minute. Sure, it was a fine job. Kicking ass and wreaking havoc? That part was dope as fuck. The murder of innocent people? Less cool, in fact, not cool at all. But she tried to fight it. Oh boy, did she try. It never worked. Whatever Mother wanted to happen, happened. And that was that.

And she wasn't in the market for another set of abrasively grotesque scars.

Or worse.

“I like aspects of it,” Carmilla responded after some thoughts on the matter.

“And where do you fall on the ‘random murder of innocent people’ bit?” she asked, eyebrow quirked. God, why did she have to be so cute?

“Not a fan,” Carmilla muttered, looking away.

“I was hoping you'd say that.” She smirked like she won. Twenty minutes ago it would have been infuriating but now, not so much.

“But we can't fight it, I've tried,” Carmilla said with increased force. She was back to looking Laura square in the eye, hoping to convey the gravity of the situation.

“But we have to!” Laura yelled, sounding in a way like a toddler again.

God this was so _stupid._

Laura was pouting again.

But she was so lovely.

“Let's run away.”

Carmilla was so dumb for even thinking that, and then saying it out loud? Why was she so sunk for this girl? Where would they even go?

“We can’t just run away! What about everyone else? What about when your mother finds out?” Laura protested, a fire reborn behind her retina.

There it is. That stubbornness that got Carmilla into this whole mess in the first place.

That was the thing with Carmilla; she didn’t care about a lot of things. She was taught, pretty effectively, that most things weren’t worth getting invested in.

That most things weren’t losing yourself over.

But Laura cared. She cared so much about things so insignificant that Carmilla loathed her for it. Then again, there was some merit to the way she was. It was brave, in its own little fucked up way, how Laura so blindly trusted her belief in justice and just went with her gut. She was in way over her head, robbing banks, avenging the lesser, trying to take down a multimillion dollar national gang but hell, at least she was trying.

Carmilla couldn’t say that much about herself.

“Okay, cutie, here’s the thing though: we can’t just ‘stop my mother,’” she said with exaggerated air quotes from her one free hand. “We need a plan.”

“Yeah, a plan! Definitely. So if we start coming up with stuff now, by tonight, we will be…”

“No, Laura, by tonight?” Carmilla was shaking her head and rubbing her temple with her free hand. “That’s not enough time, don’t you get it? This kind of planning gets you fucking caught robbing a bank. Imagine how poorly it’d hold up against the Dean.”

“If we don’t do anything, I’ll be dead by tonight.”

The room felt tense all of the sudden.

It felt like breathing would break some invisible walls that had appeared suddenly. Carmilla took a sharp and shaky breath anyway.

She was still handcuffed to the girl before her, their eyes on each other’s faces. Carmilla saw the remnants of a tear track down Laura’s left cheek, the one Carmilla couldn’t easily reach with her free hand. She saw the bags under Laura’s eyes, the eyeliner running down slightly after a night of wear. She felt how limply Laura’s wrist hung then, exhaustion clearly present.

And yet.

Here she was trying to fight it. Still.

The word admirable flashed in her mind.

“If we are going to do this, we are going to do it my way. You will follow exactly what I say and if you protest even a little, I will not hesitate to kill you and all of your little lackies, do I make myself clear?” Carmilla hardened her face, trying to make this conversation convincing. Confidence was all she had anymore.

Well, that and millions of dollars worth of cars, weapons and explosives in her garage through the woods.

She owed it to herself to have some secrets, especially in the way of getaway vehicles that even her mother knew nothing of. She never thought much about going off the grid but she was always prepared for it.

“I’m going to remove the handcuffs. Don’t you dare even think of trying to run off because my guards can and will kill you on sight.” She heard Laura mutter something to the effect of “I’d never” as she began to undo the handcuffs. She started with her own wrist then undid Laura’s. She turned to put them on the table, when she felt two hands grab at her shoulders. She looked up in time for Laura to slide her hands up to Carmilla’s cheek and pull her in for a full kiss.

She held Laura’s hips while their bodies moved closer together. Laura held her face tight to hers, her hands clinging to Carmilla for dear life. Carmilla nipped at Laura’s lower lip gently, feeling hands tangle in her curls and stroke gently at the back of her neck. Carmilla ran her tongue over the bites then, before pulling away with a lower lip still sucked between hers. They stayed close, breathing slightly heavy.

“So let’s get to it then,” Laura interrupted, her voice going hoarse and cracking a little.

Carmilla smirked and pulled back. She actually placed the cuffs down then, letting them rest on the table. “There will be no location or GPS settings active on your phone, starting now,” Carmilla instructed, tossing her phone back to Laura. “I’m trusting you with that.” She raised her eyebrows expectantly and Laura nodded back quickly. She watched Laura tap along the screen a few times before she turned around to face the mostly ignored cabinet that was behind her all night.

“That will include your data plan, by the way,” she drawled, turning the padlock to the right three digit combination. “From now on, that will be an excessive text messaging machine solely. If they’re going to find you, they better be calling in cell towers for information.” She heard a few more vibration sounds from the touchscreen before Laura said “done.”

She opened the cabinet then and before her were a variety of weapon choices. She went straight for the proximity mines, hoping a nice line across the doorway would suffice. She also grabbed some more ammo for her pistol and a knife complete with leather strap and holster for her calf.

“My mother will be here in less than 2 hours. In that time, we have to get out.” Laura opened her mouth to protest but stopped when Carmilla turned around, bombs in hand. “It won’t happen if I’m gone. I promise.” Carmilla hoped that was as sincere as it sounded in her head, but the solemn nod indicated it was.

She began to place mines by the front door, then by the windows. She walked back and forth between the placement areas and the cabinet, never carrying more than one in each hand at a time. She wasn’t an idiot.

“Mother will most likely come by here first. If these don’t kill her, well, that’ll be a problem for another day.” Carmilla wiped her brow after placing the last of them around the shack. A single window remained untouched and unrigged. She held one more in her left hand.

“All we have to do now is get to my cars. It will be a short walk but we have to be quiet getting out of here.” Laura nodded and so Carmilla continued. “I have some money and a fake. My car isn’t registered to me and it is entirely untraceable.”

Laura nodded again, stronger this time. She was so blindly trusting, Carmilla couldn’t believe it.

Then again, so was she right about now.

Carmilla held out her right hand then, just before Laura. “You in?” she asked with a nervous grin.

A hand smacked into hers, intertwining their fingers tightly.

“Lead the way.”

This time, Carmilla didn’t hide the giant smile on her face.


	9. Chapter 9

_6:21 AM_

Getting out of the window was the easy part. Carmilla had hoisted Laura up and through the window, before she stuck the last proximity mine to the inner wall, just below the window sill, and jumped through herself.

It was the following escape that would prove difficult. They stood up against the building’s outdoor panelling, waiting for their eyes to adjust. Though the inside of the shack was never bright, it was brighter than this, with the sun barely rising over the horizon.

There was a single guard sat on the roof, armed with a sniper rifle. Carmilla didn’t want to shoot him, but she was considering it as he looked for his figure among the shadows. He was seated, rifle set up horizontally on the flat rooftop. He was also facing the front of the building, away from the girls cowering in the back.

Carmilla grabbed Laura’s hand once again, before pulling her towards a wooded area. They moved quietly but quickly, blending into the wilderness in no time. Carmilla checked over her shoulder once after they took off, just to see the guard scratch his head and crack his neck, clearly oblivious to the antics behind him.

The coast was clear and they were out.

“We have a little over a mile walk from here, are you up to it?” Carmilla asked as they trudged through the underbrush and fallen twigs. It was nearing the time Carmilla would fall asleep, or at least take a nap before heading to the bank. She wasn’t even sure if she was feeling up to it.

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Laura teased, bumping her shoulder into Carmilla’s as they walked side by side

They continued to walk, weaving in and out of trees. The sun was getting higher in the sky, bringing with it a more visible pathway. Carmilla knew the way well and she could walk it in her sleep. Laura kept up though, thankfully.

Two hours or not, they needed to hustle.

“I have a car waiting for us,” Carmilla mentioned, after about five minutes of silence between them. Laura grunted quietly, a small acknowledgement. “It’s a Zentorno, which I know is a bit flashy, but it’s fast and I already own it. I doubt Mother even knows I do.” Laura nodded then, a little “mhm” escaping her lips. “It’s blue too, so she won’t think it’s mine regardless.”

The silence fell over them again, blanketing the peaceful, albeit high profile and life-threatening, morning walk. They were handling the walk with ease, which came as a surprise to Carmilla. Laura, despite her clumsiness, was staying vertical and making it over branches and through rocks fine. Carmilla tried not to focus on their intertwined fingers too much.

“We have to get clothes, too,” Carmilla added, after another few minutes of cracking twigs and the gentle patter of feet. “We’re not really dressed for summer and we’re going to stick out, in all this black.”

She looked over at Laura then, slowing her walk to better evaluate the girl. She was looking down, which made sense for someone walking an unknown and treacherous path. But her eyes weren’t on the ground, they were somewhere else. Carmilla nudged her, causing her to look up and give a weak smile in the direction of the dark haired girl.

Something wasn’t right.

“We’re going to head out to Blaine County, at least for a bit. We have to let this blow over before we return to Los Santos.” Laura nodded and hummed in agreement. “We can get clothes on the outskirts of Los Santos County, then head up there. I want to come back here, but we have to deal with the Dean before we do...Or the aftermath of the Dean, more specifically.”

Laura nodded again, and continued to say nothing. Carmilla stopped walking and turned around, her front facing Laura’s. Laura hit her directly, almost falling backward from the contact. She picked her head up to look more closely at Carmilla who was still holding her hand and effectively blocking her in place with her slightly taller body.

“Okay, what gives? You haven’t spoken since we left,” Carmilla stated, with a strong but unassuming tone.

Laura shrugged then, making a noncommittal noise as her lip twitched down slightly. They were stood in the middle of the woods, now, light orange sun coating their faces. Carmilla could admit that Laura was really pretty, especially in this moment.

Even when she was held hostage nearly twenty minutes ago.

“Come on, Laura,” Carmilla pleaded, grabbing her other hand as well and holding her tight but at arm’s length. “I’m about to do the most dangerous thing I’ve done in my life. I need to know if you’re not into it anymore.”

“She’s going to die, isn’t she?” Finally she speaks.

“Who are you talking about?”

“The Dean, your mother. Those bombs are going to end her, right?” Her voice was so quiet and so broken that Carmilla had to lean in further to hear her words properly.

Carmilla nodded a little and squeezed her hands. “That is the plan, yes. And if they don’t, we’ll figure out a better plan.”

“Because she deserves to die?” Carmilla nodded again with a shrug, trying to lock eyes with Laura, whose were loosely focused on something in the distance. “And the guards too?”

“You _want_ to kill the guards too?” Carmilla asked, puzzled.

“No, the, uh, bombs will kill the guards too,” she stated quietly. Carmilla nodded slowly, her eyebrows knitted together. “But they don’t have any part in this. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

Carmilla didn’t move then. Maybe Laura had a point, but what could she do? She was saving Laura from an untimely death, a foul and gruesome ritualistic murder.

“But how does this make us any better than your mother?” She looked Carmilla in the eyes then, her gaze still unfocused and sad. “Those bombs are going to kill like five innocent people. Who gave us the right?”

Carmilla sighed. Every minute they stood talking was a minute less of running away and truth be told, they didn’t have a lot of minutes left. There wasn’t even a guarantee that the guards wouldn’t notice the emptiness of the warehouse and be out for Carmilla before her mother even touched down in Los Santos.

“Listen, I get it, you’ve spent this whole time trying to do the right thing and be on the ‘right side’ of this whole battle. But those men out there are far from innocent. They’re in a _gang,_ Laura. They’ve killed and robbed and assaulted more people than you know.” Carmilla ran her thumb over Laura’s fingers then, trying to convey a sense of affection and understanding. Laura nodded her head quickly a few times, mulling over Carmilla’s implications. “We really don’t have time for these morality questions. We need to get out of here if we want to survive, okay?”

Laura nodded once then, strongly. Carmilla let out a sigh. Her agreement was all Carmilla needed before she dropped the hand held in her left and pulled Laura along with her right hand once again.

Carmilla knew what she said was hypocritical; she, too, was in a gang. Hell, she ran the fucking thing. But she didn’t have time for some discussion of ethics in the middle of the woods with so many potential assassins soon to be on her case. She just hoped that Laura could trust her for just enough longer for both of them to flee.

The silence returned then but since they began to jog along, heavy breaths filled the air. Carmilla had inspired the increase of speed, knowing they were close. And they were making pretty decent time.

“Why me?” Laura asked, in between small pants. It was delicate still, quiet. She must have left her aura of force and determination behind at the warehouse, and whatever had replaced it was making Carmilla deeply sad.

“What?” she replied, not slowing down this time. _Just two more minutes, we can make it._

“Why save me?” she asked again, this time with clarification.

“You know what? I honestly don’t know,” Carmilla muttered with anger.

Why was she asking these kinds of questions? Why was Carmilla doing this in the first place? This was a death sentence; there was no way around it. If her mother found her, she was done. If she didn’t, well, what kind of life could Carmilla live? She had to go off the grid and it’s not like she had any real world experience anyway. The second she leaves this life is the second her life is over.

Maybe she should turn around.

Carmilla stopped moving and Laura bumped her slightly. She should just turn back. She should bring Laura back to the warehouse and dismantle the mines and call in that stupid fucking Danny girl and off her too. And the rest of the stupid fucking ornithology club Laura called her gang. Just go back to the way life was.

She turned around fully then, now facing Laura exactly.

She legitimately could not do that. Laura was looking up at her, chestnut eyes gazing through long lashes. Her hair was ratty and messed up from the balaclava and the kidnapping and all, but it was still flowing and lovely. She had small lips but such wonderfully soft features. Even now, when she looked so tired, utterly exhausted even, she was so pretty, so passionate.

So unlike Carmilla.

She couldn’t turn back. Not now. Not after actually knowing Laura and not just reading her correspondences from the past few months.

“I don’t know why I’m saving you,” she continued, softer now. “But I do know that in all my years working for this god forsaken gang, you’re the only one I found to be worth saving.” Laura smiled and went to open her mouth before Carmilla spoke again. “I don’t know why that is, but I know that I have to. Now please, can we just get to the cars?”

“Yes.” The passion from Laura was back, and Carmilla could see it in just that one word. She smiled then, a real smile for once, and she felt arms wrap around her torso and a head lean into her chest.

She hugged her back.

They were barely a minute’s walk from the garage now, and the girls basically bounced to the area then. Carmilla unlocked a combination lock from the base of the garage before manually opening the metal door. The two car garage held two vehicles, both unlike anything “The Panther” owned. The Zentorno sat there, in all of its gaudy glory, next to a…

“Is that a Stratum?”

A Zirconium Stratum.

“Oh my god, and it’s green? My dad could afford this car and he’s a cop. Can we take this one? Please tell me we’re taking this one.” Laura clapped her hands in excitement.

Why did she have to steal this car?

“No, we are not taking the Stratum. We’re taking the Zentorno, like I told you before. I only even have that car for when I’m going deep undercover.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?” Laura giggled, literally giggled, as she looked over the car in front of her, running her fingertips along the forest green hood.

“No, we’re running away. And if this turns into a chase, wouldn’t you rather be in the car with a turbo engine and bulletproof tires instead of the one that maxes out at 60?”

“So, little Miss ‘I’m a Crime Lord, I’m always prepared’ didn’t soup up the only other car in her super secret getaway garage?” Laura implored. Okay, so _maybe_ she was rightbut Carmilla wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. “Oh, I know that look. You’re doing that thing with your tongue where you aggressively lick at the inside of your cheek.” Carmilla scowled when Laura pointed it out. How did she know that nervous tick already? “That car _so_ has a supercharged engine.”

“My getaway, my rules. Get your ass in the Zentorno,” Carmilla threatened.

She turned away to get into the blue car, when she heard Laura yell ‘shotgun!’ from behind her. She hit the ground then, on reaction, only to hear giggling from inside the Stratum.

“What the fuck was that?” Carmilla asked, angrily. One of the car’s windows rolled down then, and Laura leaned over from the passenger seat to where Carmilla stood outside the driver’s window in between the cars.

“I called ‘shotgun,’” Laura explained. Carmilla looked at her with wide eyes, still unsure what she was on about. “Like, for the car? So I would sit in the passenger seat.” The ‘duh’ in her voice was apparent as she rolled her eyes.

Carmilla put her hand on her chest, trying to stop the thumping behind her ribcage. “You don’t just yell about guns, dammit. You get into cover when someone comes up with a gun, especially a shotgun, shit.” She was exasperated and on edge, the lack of sleep making her fight or flight response come in heavier than usual.

“So you never called shotgun when getting into cars with friends?” Laura asked, still seated in the little green car. Carmilla shook her head, her breathing evening out finally. “That is so sad. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Carmilla reassured. She pointed to the blue car behind her then, asking “Can we just…”

But Laura pouted a little and she knew that they really couldn’t just get into the deluxe sports car adjacent to Laura. She sighed.

“Fuck it, fine, we’ll take the piece of shit.”

Laura squealed in joy, clapping her hands together as Carmilla popped the trunk on the stupid little sedan. She opened the locker in the back with ease, pulling out a wallet and some other “accessories” for later. She placed them all neatly into the back before closing it back up and making her way around to the driver’s seat.

She started the engine and it roared to life as she pulled out of the garage. She parked it for a second, as she left the car to reseal the garage door. When she reentered the car, Laura was fiddling around with the radio. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. Like they were two friends going on a road trip rather than murderous fugitives, hiding from the worst gang in the nation.

It was almost embarrassing.

A long dirt road welcomed them, stretching ahead as a direct route out of the woods. Carmilla knew all aspects of this like the back of her hand, so she knew the most effective getaway strategy. First, they needed to hit up a clothing store, to get them out of their fully covering black attire. Then they just needed to go north.

The first clothing store they found was open, which was surprising for a Saturday at 7AM but Carmilla wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She parked the car in the street easily as most inhabitants of Los Santos weren’t awake at this time. Carmilla popped the trunk and removed her weapons from her body, placing them gently into the back. Laura followed her and looked on, noticing the variety of guns and explosives that Carmilla had stowed in the trunk back at the garage.

“Always prepared, right cupcake?” Carmilla teased when she saw how wide Laura’s eyes had gotten, before shutting the trunk. Laura continued to look concerned, with the knowledge of the weaponry hanging over her head. Carmilla pulled on Laura’s far shoulder with her right hand, tugging the side of the shorter girl into her, and then kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry about those. You’re on my side now.”

Laura smiled at her then, the fear reverting back to the tiredness that fell over her features. They were tight up against each other but for Carmilla, it felt great. Laura felt relaxed under her touch as well. It really was a great feeling. Carmilla leaned in again for a quick peck on Laura’s lips before pulling away and gesturing her head towards the shop in front of them. “Let’s go,” Carmilla instructed softly. Laura let out a huff at the quick reduction of contact, but began to walk in stride with Carmilla, who dropped her arm in exchange for holding Laura’s hand.

The shop had all of the basics, shirts, pants and shoes alike. Carmilla wasn’t too keen on parting with her combat boots but she knew the rest of the black attire definitely needed to go. The look of pure concern across the store clerk’s face when they entered was proof enough. Carmilla grabbed a tight charcoal V-neck and a pair of purple short shorts. Neither of these were in her taste but desperate times call for ugly clothes.

Speaking of, she wandered over to Laura who had a yellow sundress in slung over her arm and was looting through a rack of similar clothes. She held in her hand the hangers to a couple other questionable choices, including long sleeved button downs and shirts with horrid animal print across them.

“Sunshine, what the hell are you doing?” Laura jumped out of her skin as Carmilla came up behind her.

“Holy shit,” she muttered, organizing herself. “I’m getting clothes, what are you doing?”

“Trying to get out of the store this century in something summer appropriate, yet still comfortable. We are on the run, after all,” she whispered into Laura’s ear, who blushed at the closeness.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right,” Laura conceded, looking over the clothing she had in her left hand. “So no to all of these?”

“I’d say,” Carmilla muttered. She held up her arm with the clothes hangers in it. “These are my choices. We can get more when we get out of here.”

Laura huffed but agreed to that, quickly returning her other clothes to the rack. Carmilla then led her over to the area with the basic summer pieces. She decided, with Carmilla’s help, to keep her canvas sneakers but to get a loose, light gray tee and a pair of high waisted dark denim shorts. Carmilla paid for them, before they both dipped into a changing room to wear their clothes out of the store. Carmilla tipped the cashier with a twenty and the instructions that if anyone asks, she never met them. The woman knew enough about this area to go with it.

20 bucks is 20 bucks after all.

They toyed with the idea of tossing out the clothes they had on before leaving town, but Carmilla decided that she could never part with her leather pants and Laura insisted that if Carmilla gets to keep her clothes, she should too.

It was only fair.

Carmilla learned a few new things on their ride up the east side of the city to Blaine County, San Andreas. She learned that Laura’s favorite station was very much Non-Stop-Pop FM but that she will switch to Radio Mirror Park intermittently and without warning. Regardless of the song or her knowledge of it, she will hum or sing along, usually missing a lot of the notes.

Carmilla also learned that if she rests her hand on the gear shift, as she needs to to drive a manual, Laura will intertwine their fingers on the leather knob.

Which, she learned, is terribly distracting.

Carmilla decided in that moment that they needed a detour, even if it meant hitting a motel later than anticipated. She took a turn into the woods then, the mountains being the only thing visible up ahead.

“Hey, uh, where are we going?” Laura asked, turning the music down.

“Up.”

“You’re not going to kill me, are you? Because I thought we left all of those notions behind in the warehouse back there.” She laughed nervously.

“Do you trust me, Laura?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Technically, yes. It’s true that you are stuck with me either way but you don’t _have_ to trust me right now,” Carmilla mumbled with a smirk.

“I trust you.”

“Well, good. Because I want to show you something.”

The fact that the very old, piece of shit Stratum could scale the side of the tallest mountain in San Andreas was amazing to Carmilla. She had tried it once or twice, after a long mission, but today, it was particularly important that the car pulled through. Mount Chiliad had a beautiful view and with the sun having risen within the last 45 minutes or so was a bonus.

Laura looked scared in Carmilla’s periphery but she kept her hand gripped onto Carmilla’s, never wavering there. When the car made it to the top of the mountain, after scaling near 90° angles at some points, Carmilla could hear the sigh of relief from Laura. She wasn’t about to tell her that going down was worse than coming up.

Carmilla turned off the car and pulled up the emergency break, letting out a sigh then too. She looked to Laura who was staring through the windshield with wide eyes.

“Want to get a better look?” Laura nodded her head and opened the door to leave. “I’ll be out in a second!” Carmilla called after her. Laura hummed in response before closing the door behind her.

Carmilla pulled her phone out of her pocket and saw a new text in her inbox.

 **Mother** (7:02 AM): Just touched down at LSX. I will be at the warehouse soon. I’ll let myself in; it’ll be no bother.

Carmilla closed her eyes and sighed. It was 7:46 right now and there was no doubt in her mind: she had killed her mother. She pulled out her old police radio from the glove compartment and turned it over to the station for the Los Santos Police Department. Through static and cracked voices she heard them talk, speaking of a fire.

“Yes, that’s right,” a man’s voice came through. “It seemed to be a mostly unused warehouse on the southeast side...fire took the thing down. The fire marshall is checking for signs of arson.”

Carmilla pulled the walkie up to her mouth before pressing in the talk button. “Roger that. Is the ambulance on its way?” she stated through a confident and low disguise of a voice. The static picked up again as she waited for a response.

“Yeah, the ambulance is here but we’re waiting for the coroner now.” Carmilla gulped, loudly, but the microphone was off. “There appears to be five bodies down. No survivors.”

She turned the radio off after that, shoving it back into the glove box. She rubbed her eyes, smudging the eyeliner remains even worse than they had been. She really had done it, all those years of abuse later. She had killed her mother. And for what?

She opened her eyes and lifted her head to look out the windshield, where Laura was looking wildly around. Her eyes caught Carmilla’s and she gestured excitedly for Carmilla to come over to her.

Carmilla opened the door and Laura ran up to her, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the edge of the mountain. Laura was grinning from ear to ear and Carmilla couldn’t help but smile too.

“Look! Isn’t it beautiful?” Laura asked, looking out over the cities below. Carmilla resisted the cheesy gesture of looking to Laura and answering “yes” but just barely. The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, looking over the vast expanse of land.

The sun was still barely in the sky, its warm hues showering Laura’s light features in a beautiful glow. Her profile looked angelic, a halo of light highlighting her eyes, her nose, her lips. Carmilla pulled her in then, kissing those very lips, with a hand softly holding Laura’s cheek.

“So, I guess you really don’t know better, then, huh?” Laura smirked. Carmilla shook her head and looked at her funny, not getting what she was trying to imply. “Earlier, you said that you now know better than to run off with girls and leave your family behind.”

Carmilla laughed then, at this girl who was clearly reminding her that she should have killed her many hours ago. While they were kissing atop a mountain in the early morning sunlight. “I guess I didn’t learn my lesson, no,” she smirked. “Fuck Rule #4.”

Laura laughed again, pushing the hair out of Carmilla’s face and putting it behind her ear, keeping her eyes on Carmilla’s the whole time. “Good. You shouldn’t change who you are, especially not for your mother, who…” Laura trailed off, rubbing the scar on Carmilla’s cheek gently with the pad of her thumb. Carmilla blinked slowly, a sad smile passing over her face.

“And I lied before,” Carmilla started, pausing to gauge Laura’s reaction, which was a quirk of her eyebrow. “I am definitely a hopeless romantic.”

“Shut up!” Laura lightly punched Carmilla on the arm, in a playful way. She just shrugged in response, before running her fingers down the length of Laura’s arm. “Actually, after all of this, I can kind of see it.”

Carmilla smirked and looked down as Laura gestured to the position they found themselves in. Carmilla felt a touch below her chin, bringing her head back up to look at Laura.

“Like I said, I’ve read all the romance novels. Maybe it’s time for my love story.” Laura paused and looked at Carmilla. She could feel herself holding her breath, but how could she not with those beautiful eyes looking at her with such love and compassion? “Thank you for saving me.”

Carmilla kissed Laura then, forcefully, and she felt the smaller girl hold onto her biceps for dear life. When they pulled away, their foreheads rested together between them.

And maybe saving this stupid girl was a huge mistake, one that Carmilla would regret by day’s end. Maybe it really would be her death sentence, or, at the very least, the worst thing she’s ever done. Maybe this would be Ell all over again.

But a stronger part of her believed that maybe, just maybe, it would all be okay.

She looked out across the sky, a splattering of clouds of mismatched colors painted the horizon. Grass waved and danced in the wind, but it was out of tune, meshing with itself all the while. The tire tracks she had given the ground were crooked, jagged and messy, a perfect disaster on a fearless attempt up the hill.

She turned the girl standing next to her, hair scattered with fly aways and body visibly worn. She walked her vision along her own biceps, scarred and puckered in all the worst ways, “hideous” a word tied so closely to them.

So she sighed, closing her eyes and trying to clear her mind of the gruesome thoughts that so often lived there.

And she opened her eyes, to let them fall on Laura once again, all fragile and exhausted and waning and _messy._

But god, was she beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so I guess this means you made it through, huh? Due to personal constraints and the nature of CBB, I cut it a little shorter than I had to, perhaps. If you want more, let me know! I would definitely make a sequel to this ;)
> 
> But thank you guys for reading! I've loved writing this and I hope you liked reading it as well.


End file.
